Live Fire
by Matteoarts
Summary: When a massive number of Pilots awaken in a strange arena, they are told that they must fight for their lives. Only by killing will they survive, and potentially escape. Some will live. Most will die. All must fight. (PART OF THE ARCHITECTS CONTINUITY)
1. Awakening

With a weary groan, Buck woke up.

When you were trained as a Militia Pilot, there were a few things you learned on the Frontier.

First, pain is good. It meant you were alive. And judging by the massive headache he was having, as well as the soreness that echoed throughout the rest of his body, he was _very_ alive.

Secondly, know your surroundings. A blind man is a dead man. So it was with that piece of advice in mind that he began to analyze his current location, growing more confused as he did so. He seemed to be in an arena of sorts, a narrow box with hexagonal panels that displayed an obviously false environment around it.

He also saw that he wasn't alone in the arena; nearby were five other individuals, stirring feebly just as he had been. They wore similar gear as him, indicating that they were Pilots too.

The colors were off, though; while some he could see belonged to different factions of Militia, two of them were IMC colors, which led him to the third rule he'd learned.

The only good IMC Pilot was a dead one.

Struggling to get to his feet and shake out the last vestiges of grogginess with him, he shambled over to the group and did a quick once-over of everyone.

Two olive-drab, that was MCOR. There was grey armored individual that he recognized as a member of the Wings, a branch of the Militia that specialized in aerial combat. It was usually composed of 'pilots-turned-Pilots', and while they weren't as comfortable with their boots on the ground as other Pilots, they could still get the job done.

That left the last two; the IMC pair. Both were white in color, a good sign that they were just general lackeys of Hammond Industries, not members of the Apex predators or Ares Division. And though he didn't have any solid evidence at the moment, he had a good feeling that their people were behind this.

He grabbed the one that was nearest to him, a man, and held him up in the air by the throat. "What the hell is this? What did you do?"

Tiredly, the man seemed confused but became more agitated as he too looked around. "Wha … What the hell?! Where am I?"

"That's what I just asked you," growled Buck, squeezing the man's throat a little tighter. "Now, are you going to answer?"

One of the MCOR Pilots finally noticed what was going on. "Whoa, what's going on?" She walked over to Buck, noticing his black armor.

He nodded towards the IMC Pilot in his grip. "I'm trying to find that out from 'tight-lips' over here."

The man in his hold shook his head rapidly. "I- I don't know! I'm just as- as confused as you are!"

"You're lying!" Buck accused with a sneer, but the rambling of the Pilot sounded oddly genuine. He was sure that the IMC was pulling the strings here … but maybe this one guy in particular didn't have anything to do with it.

The other IMC Pilot, a woman, looked up and noticed what was going on. "Hey! Drop him!"

She moved forward to engage, but the MCOR Pilot next to him kept her from doing that. Defending Buck, she murmured, "What's the plan here?"

And just like that, he realized that he'd been placed in a position of power. With the others still getting up, what happened next was up to him. And quite frankly, he wanted answers more than bloodshed at the moment.

After one last moment of tension, he released the IMC Pilot's throat and let him fall to the ground, where he massaged his neck and coughed violently. The female IMC Pilot rushed to his side, and began to assess him. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Meanwhile, Buck turned his attention towards the other two who had finally woken up. The Wings Pilot moved over to him, and took a look around. "This sure as shit ain't where I remember being last," he declared in an obvious fashion. "Reckon it's some IMC trick?"

A few minutes ago, Buck wouldn't have had any doubts. But now, with the way the IMC Pilot had reacted, he wasn't so sure. Not to mention that while Hammond wasn't _too_ concerned with the lives of its soldiers, he was pretty sure that they wouldn't easily throw away valuable assets. Pilots were an expensive endeavor.

"It's _someone's_ trick," he replied. "But I'm not too sure about who's behind it."

The other MCOR Pilot suddenly held both hands to his head. "I can't … can anyone remember anything before this? How we got here?"

Buck suddenly realized that he had no idea how he'd even gotten here, let alone where they were. The last thing he remembered, he'd been engaged in a small skirmish near Angel City. Had they lost? Was this a prison of sorts?

Judging by the bodily behavior of the other Pilots, he assumed that they too were experiencing a lack of short-term memory.

The female MCOR Pilot, the one who'd guarded him, shook her head. "It's fuzzy for me. I think … I was left behind after I missed an evac ship. I was stranded, walking by myself and then-"

She turned to Buck. "Just static."

He didn't like the sound of that. He liked it even less when a loud echoing noise emanated throughout the arena, very similar to the sound of a loudspeaker suddenly being turned on.

Every Pilot, Militia and IMC alike, suddenly formed a circle with their backs to the center. Subconsciously, they all realized that they were in this together, whether they wanted it or not. They began to scan the surrounding area for a threat of any kind.

" _Hello. I hope you all had a nice rest."_

The voice over the loudspeaker was female, synthetic. And cold, very lacking from an emotional standpoint. They sounded much like a cat would when it plays with its food, and Buck wasn't fond of the comparison from where he was standing.

"What the hell is this?!" he yelled to whoever was speaking. "What are you doing with us?"

" _Oh, I'm not going to do anything,"_ they purred. _"I'll leave the killing up to you."_

With a whirr of mechanized machinery, they all looked up at the ceiling where one of the hexagonal panels had been removed, and something dropped into the arena. It was a weapon's pod, a cache of firearms for their choosing.

" _Welcome to Live Fire."_

* * *

 _ **A/N: In all honesty, I don't know how much I'm going to do with this. This was just a small idea I was thinking of for a story based around the new game mode in Titanfall 2's latest update. I was originally planning to do this as a one-shot, but if you guys like it then I don't mind continuing it.**_

 _ **\- Matteoarts**_


	2. Contract

Buck didn't know what they were going to need those guns for, but the fact remained that they were going to need them.

He was the first to make a move towards the cache, immediately setting his sight on an Alternator. The others seemed hesitant to move forward, still at a loss for what to do in the situation.

As for him, he didn't care what had happened. What mattered to him now, was getting _out_ , and it seemed that this was the fastest path towards that goal.

Grabbing a CAR, he turned and tossed it to the MCOR gal who'd woken up after him. If he had to take charge, then he wanted her as his second. A lot of people didn't trust Simulacrums, so he'd need someone human if anyone was going to listen to him.

She caught it easily, and nodded in understanding. After his actions, the rest of them seemed more willing to get a move on. The Pilot from the Wings moved forward and retrieved an R-97. If that's what he was going to be comfortable with, then maybe Buck had underestimated his ability on the ground rather than the sky.

Both of the IMC Pilots reached for an R-201 carbine each, mirroring the standard that was prevalent amongst IMC infantry units. Buck watched them very carefully, but allowed them access. He didn't want them thinking they had the upper hand here, but he wasn't going to ostracize them if they truly weren't responsible for the situation.

The male MCOR Pilot found himself a Hemlock amongst the other firearms in the cache. Unlike everyone else who simply accepted it, he checked the magazine stored in the gun already. After confirming it was indeed loaded, his face took on a grim expression as he clicked the mag back into place.

Deciding to investigate the arena further, he made a note of the environment. There were buildings around them, obviously fake and constructed in the same uniform manner that colonized worlds used to quickly build structures. Right now though, they looked more like they belonged at a testing site or a gun range than a neighborhood.

There was a fake grass that covered the ground, made of a plastic-like material and fibrous blades. Rocks and boulders had been placed in strategic locations, though he couldn't tell if those were legitimate or also farce.

A large group of hexagonal panels formed an abnormal wall in front of them that made him think it was really separating two parts of one arena. That would mean that they were only one half … and perhaps whatever opponents they were up against were on the other side.

Buck turned to the group and mentally took a deep breath. Physically, he didn't have any lungs, so it was a moot point. "Alright so here's the deal."

Everyone immediately fell silent and paid rapt attention to him. Maybe his intimidation as a Simulacrum would pay off after all.

"There's six of us. No more, no less. And to be honest, that's not a lot to work with. On the battlefield, one Pilot can make all the difference. But this …" He shook his head. "This isn't a battlefield, this is just a fishbowl, some killbox designed for us to be funneled together while some freak observes us." He gestured at the anomaly he'd found earlier. "I'm fairly certain that something is behind that wall, and we're gonna have to face it."

He shifted from foot to foot. Speeches weren't really his thing. "But we can't do it unless we work together here. We may be six Pilots, but we're six Pilots upon whom someone managed to get the jump on. Whoever's put us here, they have the capability to subdue us more than adequately. We're a bit out of our league here, and in an environment like this we're going to be sitting ducks. No backup, no Titans. Just us."

He pointed at them in a full circle, moving from one person to the next. "That's why above all else, remember that we're a team. Right now, previous alliances don't matter." The IMC and MCOR Pilots looked at each other's opposing colors. He could tell that there was some disagreement with that, but thankfully they all held their tongues. The Wings Pilot kept his attention on Buck, emphasizing that he was capable of properly listening. Good man.

The male MCOR Pilot suddenly realized something. "Wait … my Titan! I remember! I was with my Titan, we were in a fight … where is he?"

The other Pilots took notice of that fact as well, and suddenly were a lot less comfortable. Buck could feel it; a sort of emptiness in his mind, like something had been severed; the neural link.

What the hell had they done?

" _How very astute,"_ came the mysterious voice from the speakers again. _"For some who claim to care about your Titans, you seemed quite forgetful for a while."_

"What did you do to him?!" the Pilot shouted out.

" _Magnetic disruptors, as I'm sure you know, are quite useful for disabling Simulacrums."_

Buck could feel everyone's eyes on his back as he stared at the ceiling. Now he knew how they'd gotten him, at least. Simulacrums weren't as easy to knock out as a human Pilot, so he'd been a bit curious about their method.

" _Titans simply need a larger version."_ The voice sounded pleased with herself, like she was admiring her own ingenuity. Definitely a narcissist if he'd ever seen one. Or, heard one. _"As such, each of your Titans has been captured along with you, and are currently being held in a separate wing of the facility. Your links with them have been suppressed."_

Buck made a note of that. _Facility._ Maybe there was a way to bust out of here at some point. He decided to keep her talking so he could snag more information she let slip. "Why haven't you just destroyed them already? Why keep them around when you already have us?" He was thankful that EV wasn't dead yet, at least if they were telling the truth; but it still confused him.

" _We'll get to that in a minute. For now, I think it's time you meet your opponents."_

With a pulse of cyan light, the hexagon panels forming the anomalous wall began to turn transparent starting from the outer edges and moving inward. They revealed another side to the arena as he'd thought, one complete with more test buildings, grass, and-

He saw the enemies they were supposed to fight, and felt his processors skip a line or two.

They were other Pilots.

From his viewpoint, he could see three MCOR, one standard Hammond IMC, and two Pilots who belonged to General Marder's ARES Division, complete with their grey and red schemed armor. Three Militia, three IMC.

They seemed just as nervous as his team was, and kept glancing up at the ceiling to listen to what the voice had to say. He assumed that the gap in her speech must have been due to her enlightening them on the situation as well.

He glanced upward. "Is this some sick joke, or what?"

" _It's not a joke at all. In fact, it's more of an observational experiment on the fight patterns of various Pilots."_ She didn't sound like she was laughing, but he could detect a small bit of sadistic satisfaction in her voice. _"Of course, sometimes I like to play with my food."_

"So you just … you just kidnap Pilots and throw them in here?" He shook his head in disbelief. "What are twelve Pilots gonna do for you?"

" _How naive to think that you're special. There are much more than twelve of you."_

So they weren't the only arena. This could not bode well for anyone.

" _But to answer your question, you're going to fight each other for me."_

He crossed his arms. "No way. I'm not going to fight other Pilots for your enter-"

" _This is where your Titans come in."_

He froze.

" _Your Titans are cooperating so well because they've been informed that if they rebel, their corresponding Pilot will be terminated. I wonder how that loyalty will hold up when compared to yours?"_

He waved a shaking fist at the ceiling. "If you think that you can just-"

" _Here are the rules. The match continues until all of one team have been killed. If you refuse to fight, your Titan will be terminated. If you die, your Titan will be terminated. At the end, the survivors will be grouped with survivors of other Live Fire matches."_

The female IMC Pilot yelled, "What kind of system is that?! Do we even have a chance at freedom?"

Now, the voice chuckled softly. _"I suppose you'll see if you survive. The Live Fire Match will begin in one minute."_

Buck looked back at the team on the opposite side, and locked gazes with one of the MCOR Pilots. He could see the regret in her eyes, but that didn't stop her and the rest of their team from reluctantly positioning themselves for a skirmish.

Regardless of if they wanted it or not, Buck realized that they were in for a fight.

Quickly he turned to the rest of the group. "Callsigns, now."

The male IMC quickly stated, "Demarco, Hammond."

He was followed by the female IMC who muttered with a flutter in her voice, "Peridot, Hammond."

Buck stared at the Wings Pilot who grunted, "Rose, WOH."

"Klein, MCOR," stated the male MCOR Pilot.

Finally, the female MCOR looked at him. "Irish, MCOR."

He nodded after having learned all their names, and then pointed to himself. "Buck, ACES."

The man he now knew as Rose chuckled. "I was wondering about that black getup of yours. I don't see too many of you out and about."

"It's a selective division," he replied curtly. He stared at the hexagonal wall as the woman's voice came back on the speaker. _"Ten seconds."_

"You think we can pull this off?" whispered Irish.

Buck gave a synthetic sigh, and braced himself for combat. "If we want us and our Titans to live, we'll have to."

The machinery within the panels began to maneuver itself into a way that would quickly pull the hexagons apart, allowing the two teams access to one another.

For a moment, he let his mind wander. If he died, EV would too. But that also meant that for every Pilot he killed, he'd be dooming some other Titan. Somberly, he suppressed that line of thought.

Sometimes, you had to lose a battle to win the war.

" _Five."_

" _Four."_

" _Three."_

" _Two."_

" _One."_

" _Begin."_

And he did.


	3. Four-Three

_BANG!_

A burst of gunfire emanated from their opponents' side of the arena, and Buck dodged instinctively to avoid the bullet. Unfortunately, Demarco wasn't quite as lucky. The round caught him right in-between the armor plates of his right shoulder, and tore it clean off. Red began to spray everywhere, and the Pilot collapsed on the ground as he quickly lost blood.

Unable to do anything for the dying man, he resolved to take out his attacker. He looked out at the grassy playing field and spotted an ARES Pilot who had nabbed Demarco with a DMR from behind the cover of a boulder. Normally, he'd phase-shift over there, but he was relatively sure that whoever had captured them had disabled that ability. He'd have to think of something else …

While he came up with a plan to get rid of the sniper, Irish moved along the left side of the arena and planted herself behind a bush. As he watched, she managed to take down two of their opponents, one of which was MCOR. He couldn't imagine that it was an easy thing for her to do, but it was what was necessary for them to survive.

The last three of their opponents had decided to group up together towards the back. It seemed that Rose and Klein were trying to keep them suppressed. As he watched, Klein began moving forward to advance their position-

 _BANG!_

The kid didn't even see it coming. Crumpling to the ground with a rather large hole in his chest, Buck noted that the trail of the bullet had come again from the DMR marksman. He swore, realizing he'd wasted too much time and had let the guy live for far too long. Rose darted back behind cover to hide from the marksman while the latter pumped two more shots before stopping to presumably reload.

Taking the chance, Buck dashed towards the right side of the arena where the ARES Pilot's cover was. Using his jump-kit to wall-run, he covered a few meters and then leapt off to where the Pilot had just finished reloading.

Extending his right foot, the man was helpless to stop Buck's kick from crushing in the front of his skull. He immediately dropped to the floor, nothing but a human-sized paperweight.

Three down, three of them to go.

Grabbing the man's DMR, he quickly looked through the sights and towards where the other three were holed up. Irish couldn't move any farther forward due to their suppressive fire, and Rose was trying to return the favor-

"How's it looking?"

He jerked back in shock before realizing it was just Peridot. "Christ, don't do that. Nearly shot you."

She nodded seriously, and crouched low. "Sorry about that."

He decided to drop it. "We've got the last three of them against that wall-"

Something wasn't right. He looked again, and now noted that there were only two against the wall. "Rose, where's the third?!"

" _I don't know, they just disappeared!"_

"Well, where the hell-"

 _Crunch._

Spinning around at the sound of a boot against gravel, he was readying his aim when a hand shot out and smacked the gun out of his hands. It was the female MCOR Pilot. With his alternator at his side, there was no time for him to grab it as she raised her Wingman and pulled the trigger-

Peridot sucker punched the woman and threw her aim off, saving Buck's life. He quickly reached for his alternator, but wasn't quicker than it took for the Pilot to recover, grab Peridot, and then blow a hole in her head point blank. The left half of Peridot's head disappeared, nothing more than an oozing chunk of flesh in its place.

Leaping forward, he managed to grab the Wingman and wrench it out of the woman's hand. Spinning it back on her, he pulled the trigger and felt an odd satisfaction at watching her head pop like a cherry.

Blood splattered across the front of his otherwise black scarf and vest, and he turned to see Irish and Rose taking down the other two. One was already dead, and Rose was in a fistfight with the other, both of their weapons cast aside.

"ROSE!" he called out, and threw the Wingman with careful aim as the former turned towards the sound of his voice.

Extending a hand, Rose caught it neatly in his grip and then blasted the man attacking him. Their body ceased all movement, and fell onto Rose limply. The man gave a few loud huffs of breath from the adrenaline rush as Irish rushed to his aide, and Buck checked his internal timer.

Forty-three seconds. That was it.

He looked down at Peridot's corpse, where the remaining half of her face could be seen due to the shattered visor of her helmet. He could see from her last intact eye that she'd had green ones, rather pretty actually. As he watched, a mixture of blood, gray matter, and fluid from the other popped eyeball ran across the bridge of her nose, and into the unblinking eye he stared at.

Wrenching his gaze away, he was surprised to hear a low groan on the open comms. Was Klein alive? Peering over the edge of his cover, he confirmed that the young MCOR Pilot was very dead. With haste in his step, he rushed back towards the start where Demarco had been shot.

Blood still spilt onto the ground from his rather severe wound, but the Pilot was barely clinging to life. Buck positioned his right arm behind the man's head, and held the upper half of his torso up gently, "Easy, easy now."

Demarco looked at him, his helmet and visor masking any fear that the man might be feeling at this new experience of death. He wheezed gently, giving a slight nod of appreciation as Buck comforted him.

"M-make …" he whispered softly, his voice too weak to rise in volume. "… them … p-pay …"

Buck was smart enough to understand that Demarco was not referring to the other Pilots they fought, but to whoever had captured them all and put them in here. He nodded, subtly promising Demarco that he would.

With nothing left to hold him to this world, Buck felt the life fade from Demarco's body. He gently laid the Pilot on the ground, and stood up to his full height as Irish and Rose approached him.

" _Very good."_

The voice that they'd all come to hate spoke again, praising them for their performance. _"That was quite the display of teamwork and cooperation. I am most pleased."_

Buck would have spit at the voice if he had a mouth to do so with.

The back wall of the arena suddenly split apart, revealing a small chamber big enough to fit six people or so. As they watched, a door on the front of it slid open, allowing them access.

" _Enter the capsule. If you do not, you will be-"_

"Terminated," interrupted Buck snidely. "Yeah, we got it."

" _The next Live Fire match for you three will be in one week. You will be paired with the survivors of another match, and given the entirety of the week to recuperate and train if you'd like."_

"How generous," Rose muttered.

With a sort of resignation in their steps, the three of them entered the capsule and watched as its door closed behind them. Buck did so with a sense of solemnity.

This was their life now. And if they wanted to survive, it would have to remain that way for quite a while.


	4. Escalation

The capsule had taken them to a training room of sorts. Miscellaneous equipment was scattered around the area, things like weights and walls for parkour training. It was the kind of setup perfect for a Pilot.

Irish and Rose had decided to get to work and shape up for the next fight. As a Simulacrum, Buck was incapable of building up muscle mass; not to mention that he was already confident enough in his abilities and wouldn't have even if he had the chance.

Instead, he took an opportunity to do something he didn't think they'd be able to do much over the next few weeks.

Relax.

Lying on the ground of the training room, he simply looked at the ceiling and began to envision ways for them to break out. If this was a facility like the voice had stated, then it could be quite large. They'd have to find a way out as well as locate their Titans, if they were still alive.

His link with EV may have been suppressed, but he still held out hope that she was alive, even if he couldn't hear her.

Maybe … just maybe he'd be able to study that arena they were put in for fighting, and see if there were any weak points. Then-

He wasn't able to finish his thought as a small humming noise alerted them to new arrivals at the entrance. Only opening for the capsules that came and went, it slid ajar to reveal three individuals within.

Buck stood up and walked over, intent on familiarizing himself with the new team members as quickly as possible. Rose and Irish noticed as well, and followed suit.

It was two women and a man, all of whom seemed apprehensive about the three strangers coming to greet them.

Deciding to break the ice, he opted to introduce them all. "This is Rose and Irish. Wings of Harmony and MCOR, respectively." He pointed to himself. "I'm Buck, ACES.

The man and one of the women stepped forward, somewhat more comfortable now. "Gray, general SRS."

"O'neill, Hammond."

The other woman behind them did not step forward, and instead looked up at Buck with an expression akin to distrust, her helmet dangling in her grip at her side. She had short hair, as was military standard for all. It was a light brown, much like her eyes. All in all, she was pretty; but quite ordinary.

He tilted his head. "What's your name?"

She still did not give it, but instead narrowed her eyes. "You're a Simulacrum."

He looked down at himself, and then back to her. "Indeed I am. What an astute observation!"

She didn't take well to his sarcasm. "I've heard things about you. That you're all really dead, and that this is just a ghost of your former self. That you're nothing more than machines at your core."

This wasn't an uncommon sentiment around the frontier, which was only just getting used to the idea of mind-uploading. Still, it frustrated him that even in such dire circumstances, she was hesitant to associate herself with him.

"Look," he started, intent on cutting off any more thought on this topic, "maybe I am truly just a ghost, an echo. The truth is, you wouldn't know unless you were a Simulacrum yourself."

He leant in close to her face. "But even if I'm a dead man walking, I'm trying to make sure that _you_ aren't. So help me out, and give me a little more incentive to stick my neck out for you here."

He gestured towards the group of them at large. "Until we all make it out of here, we're a _team._ Not humans, not Simulacrums, not MCOR or ARES or whatever the hell else there is; a _team._ Understood?"

Her expression had shifted a little, still holding that same distrustful look but now mixed with begrudging respect. "Understood."

He nodded. "So, name?"

She held out her hand for him to shake, and he accepted. "Vale, MCOR."

After a few seconds, they let go. He gave her a small salute. "Nice to meet you, Vale. Now, maybe we can all start working together on a few strategies to try out in the next match."

…

The capsule they all rode in vibrated softly with the slow pace it took with transporting them throughout the facility to wherever they were going to end up. The glass of it was completely tinted, so they had no way of knowing where they were, or what the facility looked like; but whirrs of machinery and construction gave them a general idea that it was some kind of factory.

The week had gone by rather quickly, almost too quickly. Buck had spent most of it trying to think of new ploys to try, and poring over potential weaknesses they could exploit in their prison.

Unfortunately, he just had no idea what they could do. If they weren't in their designated training/recreational area, then they were in the arena. For all intents and purposes, escape was nigh impossible.

With a lurching jolt, the capsule came to a stop. Slowly, the doors slid apart to reveal a new arena; some kind of winter-scape.

Stepping out of the capsule cautiously, they turned as it closed itself off and was replaced with those same hexagonal panels that lined the interior of the arena.

Buck knelt down to the ground where a thin layer of white powder was strewn about. It was cold, to be sure; but it wasn't snow.

"Some kind of artificial turf," he muttered. "They must be going for authenticity here."

This arena was different from the last; while roughly the same size, it did not have the same natural-looking formations and structure as the previous. Instead, it was one flat expanse with large covers placed intermittently throughout it. In the center, there was a pit where one could take shelter if need be. All in all, it was quite simple.

That same ordnance pod was awaiting their selection of weapons once more. But there was a second one alongside it this time, one with small bracelets that could be wrapped around one's wrist.

" _For this match, we have decided to remove the suppression of any abilities linked to your armor. I thought it might be more … fun."_

He knew that the voice's motivation was anything but beneficial, however he couldn't help but feel a small bit of excitement within him. Hurriedly, he strapped one on and tested it.

In an instant, he found the world to be in grayscale, wavy and almost liquid-like. With another signal from his mind, he flashed back into reality.

Rose seemed content with he change too, sending a holographic Pilot running towards a wall. "Well, this will come in handy."

In more ways than one. These wrist-devices were what stopped whatever suppression tactic they were using to keep them all from harnessing their tactical abilities. All he had to do was figure out a way to apply this towards an escape plan … but first he had to survive this match.

He grabbed an Alternator again; he had to admit that he was partial to the weapon. Reaching forward, he pulled out a Spitfire and tossed it back to Vale. She caught the heavy weapon, and looked at him oddly. "What am I supposed to do with this? The recoil will throw my aim off-"

"I don't need you to aim," he replied. "But that pit there … if you can get into it and lay down wide covering fire, the magazine in that thing will be enough to keep them from poking their heads out while we move up."

She looked out at it, and sighed. "The kill-box. Right." He knew she wasn't enthusiastic about the prospect, probably even thought he was trying to get her killed; but it was quite the opposite.

"Rose," he ordered, "I want you watching her carefully. Make sure no one gets the jump on her."

The WOH Pilot nodded, and hefted an R-201. "Not a problem."

Across the arena, another team of six stepped forward. They were ready to start.

From up above, the voice blared out of a speaker; _"The Live Fire match will commence in fifteen seconds."_

He gestured towards O'neill and Gray. "You two take the left side, you're territory control. Anyone moves up, you put them down."

They nodded, and ran towards their position.

Finally, he looked at Irish. "And you're with me. We're gonna move up and take them down before they know what they're up against."

She grinned. "Roger that."

" _Five. Four. Three. Two."_

Time to see what secrets this arena held.

" _One."_

He sprinted immediately to the right, Irish's footsteps following close behind.

Turning, he saw Vale make a mad dash for the pit as bullets missed her by mere inches. Sliding into the pit, she immediately placed the barrel of the spitfire on the lip of it and began to spray wildly.

Someone began taking potshots at her with a G2, but that ended rather quickly once Rose determined where it was coming from and sent a barrage of rounds their way.

One down, five to go.

Leaping onto the right wall, he made his way onto the enemy side of the arena and slid forward with ease on the wet ground. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, and minimize casualties.

He saw the back leg of one of them poking out from behind a block of cover, and he phase-shifted. He could see the faint outline of the man in the other-world, and he quickly made his way into the same exact spot where the man had been.

After a moment, he shifted back to normal reality and was rewarded with an explosion of blood and armor that plastered all over him and the "snow."

Two down.

One of them who had been hiding from Vale's covering fire a few covers over took notice of his presence, and readied her aim. She was put down a second later by Irish leaping into the air and riddling her with the CAR she carried. The white of the ground was quickly turning red.

Three left.

From off to the left, he could hear bursts of gunfire from both enemies and allies. Gray and O'neill were putting up some decent effort-

He heard a crackle over the comms from one of them, and could only assume that one of them had been hit.

"Vale," he commanded, "cover them!"

The staccato of her Spitfire ceased, only to resume a moment later in the general direction of the left side of the arena.

The machine gun's rounds quickly tore apart the cover that the two opponents had been hiding behind, and they rolled out in order to escape from her onslaught. In their haste, they'd forgotten about the surviving Gray or O'neill, who unloaded on them.

He was about to congratulate whoever it was on the nice shot when he heard a metallic snapping sound, like a line going taut. It was followed up by a pained gasp from Irish, and he turned to see that a grappling hook had torn through her stomach and latched onto the sides of the hole.

Before he could grab her and pull her away, she was yanked back by the cable and towards the last member of the enemy team. The man swung her into the wall where a large _crack_ could be heard as she impacted against it.

Without a moment's hesitation, he shot a single round; a Softball grenade which landed neatly in front of her.

After a moment's pause, the explosive detonated and obliterated Irish into nothing but a human-shaped spray of blood on the wall.

Instantly, the grappling hook swing back out, this time towards Buck. Reacting quickly, he sidestepped it, and grabbed the cable.

The Pilot hadn't been expecting that, and even less for Buck to yank it back and reverse the action on him. Falling on the ground at Buck's feet, he had but a second to look up before the Simulacrum's Alternator tore his head apart.

An alarm sounded, and the battle was over.

" _What a satisfying fight, and with few losses. This will make an interesting note in your progress report."_

Buck didn't feel satisfied. All he felt was a sort of emptiness that came from watching Irish explode in front of him. The woman had been young, in her prime. She hadn't asked for any of this, none of them had; but she'd been the first one to support him from the start of this waking nightmare, and that didn't fall lightly on him.

He looked away from the blood as the voice continued, _"Deposit the devices in the pod you took them from before going back to the capsule. It will know if any are missing from the survivors."_

Indeed, a screen showing "4" on it was awaiting them. One by one, each of them came and deposited their bracelet. Buck saw that it was Gray that had survived, meaning that O'neill had bled out or been killed instantly.

Rose dropped off his, leaving one left; Buck. He glanced at the device longingly before placing it in the pod's receptacle and watching the counter go to "0."

As he stepped into the capsule silently, Vale took an unusual interest in him. "You alright?"

He looked at her for a moment before turning away once more without an answer. Not yet, he wasn't; but little did she know that her actions as well as Irish's death had given him all he needed to form a proper plan.

No one else was going to die.


	5. A New Resolve

Buck sat against the wall of their common room. For its purpose, it was more like a cell. Four walls with no way in or out except through that capsule where, inevitably, their luck would run out sooner or later.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

Right now, the others were all sitting together a ways away, settling down for the night. The newcomers to their group, two men that he hadn't bothered to familiarize himself with, went over strategies and expectations for the next day. Grenier and Fallon, their names were. One ARES, the other WOH like Rose. Both of them had been cooperative thus far, but Buck wasn't trying to get too attached.

Tomorrow was the next match, and he had five other lives to take care of. Rose, Vale, Gray, Grenier, and Fallon. Five names for him to keep track of, and five potential graves he might have to dig if he screwed this up.

He wasn't without his partiality; Grenier and Fallon weren't as high a priority, simply due to their relatively recent time of meeting. He'd save them if he could, but not at the cost of the others' lives.

Rose had been with him the longest, and the man trusted Buck a great deal. If there was as close to a second in command in their current situation, Rose was it.

Gray and Vale had come together with O'neill, and he wasn't sure how he felt about them. Gray seemed likable enough, if a bit quiet. She carried out commands without hesitation, and remained amicable amongst relations with everyone. She was a good soldier, and that's what he needed right now.

Vale … he couldn't understand why the woman was so prevalent in his mind. She'd distrusted him at first, almost shown contempt for him … but despite that, she'd overcome her own misgivings and at least respected him enough to follow orders. The point was only driven home further when he recalled her reluctant obedience to station herself in the pit. She hadn't wanted to, but she'd done it anyway.

He shook his head forcefully. At the end of the day, she was another able-body willing to listen. That was it.

Turning his attention back to what he'd been poring over for the last few days, he scrolled through everything again to make sure he knew what he was doing come tomorrow's match. Otherwise, he might end up dead.

He'd had suspicions before that the hexagonal panels were holographic in nature rather than physical-lighting based; it was cheaper, saved resources, but most importantly … it was an exploitable weakness.

Every panel reacted when a round hit it, giving a small ripple in the air. Very minor shielding of sorts, to protect them from all the ammunition being fired in the arenas. And within each one would be a small segment of a panoramic holographic projection that acted as the 'setting' for each arena. But those kinds of devices could be easily disrupted, and if he could just see once more that he was right …

The others hadn't known that he'd been recording the entirety of the match from his optics, making sure to pay attention to Vale's Spitfire impacts against the back of the arena. As he'd thought, the larger projectiles in quick succession were able to punch through the shielding for minute fractions of a second. It still wasn't clear what was behind the no-longer opaque panels, however. So he was forced to look at a different angle.

He skipped to Irish's death, and felt the same pangs of regret hit him now as it had then, watching her body vaporized before his eyes. But that softball projectile might have just been enough to-

There. The shielding had been completely broken, as well as the holographic image inside. And what he could see wasn't much to go on, but it was something.

Beyond the walls, he could see massive expanses of chamber, like the arena was held in mid-air. A wall could be made out far away, and machinery of some kind adorned it. What the hell kind of facility was this?

In any matter, it at least told him that there _was_ something beyond those walls, somewhere they could escape. If he could just find where the Titans were, then EV could still be-

"Hey. You alright?"

He stopped analyzing the recording and flipped his optics back to view Vale standing in front of him, her silhouette a backlit orange by the only light source in the middle of the room.

Buck nodded, but didn't say much. He didn't really have anything to say to her, and was genuinely curious why she was even talking to him.

To his even greater surprise, she sat down next to him and stayed there. He glanced over at her.

"What is it?"

She turned to face him, an expression of confusion on her features. "What is what?"

He waved his arm at her. "I mean, you didn't exactly express comfort at Simulacrums when we first met. Didn't think you'd want to spend your company with me is all."

She sighed. "Yeah, well … like you said; we're a team. Who gives a damn who or what any of us are?" She gave a small smile. "For as much as it's worth, anyway. It's not likely any of us are going to last much longer in here anyway."

"This is certainly a big change from earlier," he remarked, still unwilling to fully accept she'd altered her perspective in a few days.

He could see her face fall, but she didn't fight him. "Look … you're right about me not knowing what it's like to be one. Why don't you explain?"

Taken aback, he asked, "Explain?"

"Yeah, like … how is it compared to your old body?"

No one had ever really questioned him about that before, aside from the lab techs when he'd first awoken. "Well …"

He gave it some thought. "It's a permanent change, at least until they find a way to reupload synthetic minds into organic bodies. I don't … _feel_ anymore so much as I sense. Physical touch and pain are triggered through artificial nerves. It's not so much feeling someone touching me as it is just someone touching me and me being made aware of it. You know?"

She seemed intrigued, and her expression encouraged him to continue.

"I'm stronger and more powerful than before, but it comes with one sacrifice after another; you give up touch, taste, smell … I don't even speak, not literally anyway. No vocal cords; I just think about what to say and my speakers shout it out. Everything is just a number now, triggering some kind of sensor somewhere in me to let me know my environment. I can't love anyone anymore, at least not physically. Everything about me is specifically tailored to war."

"Why do it then?" she asked quietly. "If you have to give up so much for it, why go through with it?"

He gave an electronic sigh. "I've watched too many people give their lives for this war. Think about that, sacrificing your entire _existence_ for a chance at peace and standing up for what you believe in." He scoffed. "At least I still get to live afterwards; if it even gave me a slight advantage, how could I _not_ do it?"

His voice became quiet once more. "I mean … I wasn't prepared for the fact that I literally can't die anymore. Not really, anyway. Every time my body gets destroyed, the lab techs get a notification and just upload my mind again."

He looked at her and said dryly, "That is if I'm not already dead like you suggested. Maybe you're right; maybe I really _am_ a dead man walking."

Vale didn't have a real answer for that, but instead remained silent for a while as they enjoyed one another's company. Within a few minutes, the others came over and sat down beside them.

Rose glanced over at them. "Everything alright?"

Instead of letting Vale flounder, he replied to subtly give her confirmation of the amiability between them, "Yes, we're fine."

The WOH Pilot grunted and then turned to Gray. "What do you think they'll put us up against tomorrow? First week we had meadows, second was snow … desert?"

She appeared to give it some thought. "Definitely a possibility. I think that this is all a guise, though."

Fallon tilted his head. "How so?"

Gray pursed her lips. "We've been told that we're being monitored for behavior and to see how Pilots fight. But …" She shook her head as though she were disturbed by a particularly unpleasant thought. "The tone and language expressed by that damn voice is bordering on sadistic. I think we're just being played with at this point; toys for her enjoyment, whoever she is."

That was certainly a humbling thought, and was emphasize all the more as Grenier grumbled, "You sure know how to freak the hell out of people, that's for sure."

Rose chuckled. "Just means we got all the more reason to find a way out of here before we begin to bore her." He turned towards the Simulacrum. "Isn't that right, Buck?"

He was about to agree with the man before realizing what Gray had just made apparent in his mind; if they were going to escape, it wasn't just about beating the arena … they'd have to beat whoever was imprisoning them here.

Right now, she held all the cards; she had every Pilot right where she wanted, fighting one another or stuck in these makeshift quarters and training rooms. He wouldn't doubt her ingenuity in placing hidden cameras or other manners of security in each room to look for such a suggestion like escape.

If they were being observed and he told them the plan, it would all be over. Which meant … he couldn't tell any of them.

"No," he muttered, "I don't think there's a way out. Not yet, anyway."

Rose obviously hadn't expected that answer, and sighed. "Well … damn." Buck could hear the disappointment in his voice, and he felt bad for taking away some of the man's hope.

"If we really are doomed to die here," Gray began, "then at least I can say it was great to meet you all before … you know."

Rose nodded. "Couldn't have said it better myself. It's been an honor either way, whether we live or die."

After that, conversation generally ended. All the others began to claim their own spots on the floor in preparation for the match tomorrow until only he and Vale were left. The brunette stood up, and walked a few paces away before stopping and turning back.

"Actually … it might be nice to have some company on what could be the last night of our lives."

Before he could protest, she laid down next to him and became still. It wasn't flirtatious in any sense of the word; this was more primal, it was a need to have someone close in a time of great fear. She kept surprising him tonight, first with her sudden change in paradigm and now with her selection of him as her source of comfort.

He was about to set himself into a rest mode before her heard her whisper, "You're not dead."

He looked at her. "What?"

Her eyes stared back at him. "I can see how much you care about getting everyone out. I was wrong about you … even if your body is dead, I know that your mind and heart are just as alive as they were before."

Smiling, she closed her eyes and went to sleep, leaving him to ponder over what the hell he was going to do tomorrow.

He knew the truth; the voice had suppressed whatever link he had with his Titan, and perhaps his ability to reupload. If he died, it would probably be permanent.

But he also knew that even if it killed him, he was going to get everyone out.

Not just his team; everyone.


	6. Blood in the Water

Slowly, the capsule came to a stop. Buck looked at the other five occupants, each of them staring back at him in turn.

He wanted to tell them, _This is it. This is the moment I free us._ He wanted to encourage them, to give them something to fight for. He wanted to give them hope.

Instead, he gave a small nod of his head. "Let's go."

Assuming his plan worked, hopefully they'd forgive him for not telling them.

The panels of the arena slid aside to allow them entry. They walked in before access was closed once more, the panels sealing them inside. Now, they were able to see what kind of arena they were fighting in today.

"Desert?" scoffed Gray, referencing Rose's prediction from the night previously. "This is about as far from a desert as you can get."

The floor of the arena was completely covered in water that came up to their knees. On the left and right side were ramps that led to dry platforms; they'd be much more mobile, but exposed.

The center of the arena had ten-foot tall walls shaped into corners and covers; essentially a small maze. Someone could hide pretty well in there, if necessary.

In addition to those two observations, he saw that the ground varied; most areas were knee-high water, but at certain parts the floor would dip and become pits hidden in the blue water. They could go either way, used for an ambush or as a hazard.

Constantly, water was falling from the ceiling almost like rain; it didn't contribute to the water level, but rather just decreased visibility.

"They're definitely not pulling any punches here," commented Grenier, gazing around in distrust at the battleground.

"Doesn't seem like we're able to catch a break," Gray agreed.

From above, their captor announced, _"Once more, we have allowed you to use your tactical abilities."_

The usual weapons cache as well as the bracelet-pod stood in front of them again. The latter was full of six wearable wrist-devices that would grant them access to their different abilities. Eagerly, Buck stepped forward and put one on.

This was going to be what got them out of here.

Vale took just one more glance around before turning to Buck as he armed himself and the others. "What's the plan?"

Her loyalty was absolute now, and he still was amazed at how quickly her regard for him had changed. He wasn't complaining, however; it was definitely a welcome shift in attitude.

Pointing towards the two platforms, he said, "Avoid going on those if you can. I know that mobility seems great, but I'd rather we be slow in the water and covered than exposed up there. I want Grenier and Fallon watching them to see if any of them try to use them."

The voice droned on, _"The Live Fire match will commence in fifteen seconds."_

He gestured to the other four. "The rest of us are going in through the maze. It's the only way through to the other side besides those platforms, and we'll have Grenier and Fallon on that. Stick in teams of two. Rose and Gray, stay in contact."

Looking at Vale, he'd smile if he was able to. "You're with me."

An expression of surprise came over her, quickly replaced with stoicism. "You got it."

" _Five."_

He turned and readied himself to charge forward.

" _Four."_

"Let's do this, people."

" _Three."_

" _Two."_

" _One."_

The sound of the horn met them and they jumped into action.

Vale and him took towards the left side of the maze as Rose and Gray favored the right. It was only a moment or two before they were inside the walls, and Buck realized something that he hadn't prepared for.

Silence.

This wasn't an all-out battle like the previous matches; the sloshing of the water and the rain was all that kept others from hearing them … and potentially seeing them.

This was a game of stealth.

Slowly, he and Vale checked each corner they rounded for hostiles. He'd never felt more tense in one of these matches than he did right now, and-

Gunfire rang out from the back of their side of the arena, and he held a hand to stop Vale so they could listen. Had they lost anyone?

After a moment, the comms lit up with Fallon's voice. _"One tango down. Tried to use the platform like you said."_

Steadying his nerves, Buck waved Vale forward again.

Suddenly, he heard a splash from behind him and spun quickly around to see someone emerging from the water beneath Vale. They must have been hiding in one of the pockets he'd noticed earlier.

Reacting quickly, Vale smashed her fist into the front of the Pilot's helmet, stunning him for a moment. While he recovered, she raised the CAR in her hands and blew his brains out.

As his body fell back into the water, she fell silent again, listening for any others that might have heard the noise and come rushing to his aid. Fortunately, it seemed that the others were unwilling to charge blindly forward.

" _Where did he come from?"_ yelped Grenier over the comms, startling everyone in the maze. _"Moving in for the take-down!"_

" _He looks off, like-"_ There was a moment's pause from Fallon before the Pilot yelled, _"IT'S A HOLO! GET BACK-"_

An explosion rocked their side of the arena, and static began playing through Grenier's severed comms connection.

"Fallon? Grenier?!" Buck whispered anxiously, hoping to get a response … but none came.

"Dammit," he muttered. He hadn't wanted to lose anyone …

Vale grabbed his shoulder, and force him to look at her. "Hey, it's not over yet."

Her words struck a chord with him, and he nodded. "Yeah. Let's …"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and organize the remaining four of them once more. "Alright; Rose and Gray, stay in the maze. Be careful, you'll be on your own."

" _Understood."_

Beaconing Vale to follow him, he began to retrace their steps out of the maze. "You and I are going to take care of whoever's waiting for us on our side."

As quietly as they could, they backtracked using the sound of the water falling to hide their progress from their opponents. Upon arriving at the starting point to the maze's interior, Buck peeked out as little as he could to avoid being seen.

There were two of them there, watching the platforms like Grenier and Fallon had done. He could see chunks of what had been Grenier floating around in the water; Fallon's body was still intact, a bloody trail following it in the water.

"Alright, when I give the signal-"

Vale shoved him down hard as the crack of a gun came from behind them. He jerked around to see that one of them had approached them from behind and she'd only just seen them in time to push him out of the way.

The other two noticed, and he swore. "Hold onto me-!"

He phase shifted while grabbing Vale's hand. This was never recommended, but it _did_ work … most of the time.

Both of them were sent into a state of grayscale, and he pulled her out of the maze towards the two standing guard on the bodies. He had to be careful; she didn't know just how easy it was to phase through objects if one wasn't careful. Everything felt like a membrane in here; a bit of resistance, but not much else.

Hurrying to position themselves, they materialized right behind the other two and attacked. Buck's target had not expected it at all, and was quite overwhelmed when the Simulacrum tackled her and quickly put her down.

Vale was not so lucky; perhaps her assailant was more experienced with the tricks of phase-shifting, but he had prepared for her and knocked her down. He was raising his own weapon to fire when a gunshot from off to the side rang out and punched a hole in the man's chest. Looking down, he came to terms with his own demise right as he tumbled into the water.

Buck looked to see Fallon standing weakly, holding out a G2 with one arm. To have made that shot one-handed was already incredible enough, but to do it while the user was in such a bad state? It was a miracle.

"Gray, Rose, get out of the maze now!" he ordered, and then tended to Fallon. "I thought you were dead-"

"Bullet took me in the gut," he grunted. "I don't think it hit anything, and- and it must've gone clean through."

Buck checked him quickly to see that he was right; small exit wound could be seen near the side of his back. "What happened to Grenier?"

Fallon looked at the chunks floating around. "He went to tackle a Pilot … turned out to be a hologram. There was a 'nade or something under the water, blew him apart. They shot me, but I just played dead and they assumed they got me from all the blood in the water."

A wise move on his part; he should count himself lucky. Buck turned at the sound of sloshing to see Gray dragging Rose out of the maze. Hurriedly, he came to help her. "What happened-"

"One in the maze," she panted, "tagged him in the leg. I don't know where, but he wasn't able to walk on his own. I took down the attacker."

He gave a pat of comfort to the Wings Pilot and muttered, "You're gonna be alright Rose. You hear?"

Rose gave a weak thumbs up.

Vale spun around in a circle, checking out their position. "Where's the last one?"

Buck finally noticed what she was talking about, and felt a sinking feeling. "Dammit, he must have gone back into the maze."

She was about to head in when he ran over and grabbed her. "No, I'm going in. No one else."

He couldn't see those brown eyes of hers behind the visor, but he assumed that they were narrowed in an argumentative expression. Before she could protest, he pointed to all of them and then to their side. "All of you stay here; I'm not losing anyone else if I can help it."

Vale shifted from foot to foot, nervous for his safety; but thankfully, she obeyed. He gave a mock salute to the four of them, and then entered the maze once more.

Holding the Alternator in his hands with a firm grip, his hands were still. Panicking wouldn't get him out of this; staying calm would. He made no movement without thought, without calculation. Where was this guy hiding?

He thought to himself as water ran down his joints, streaking along the metal of his body. The center of the maze was too obvious, and hiding under the water wasn't too viable of a strategy unless it was in one of those pits, and he definitely hadn't heard anyone come up for breath from hiding in one for long.

What would _he_ use to hide, he thought to himself. If he was in this last-man-standing scenario, what would he consider to be the point to turn the tide? He'd need surprise obviously, but if everyone was already looking ahead or down, then …

It dawned on him right as he heard a noise, and he jumped out of the way to avoid the crushing weight of the Pilot jumping on him from above. Apparently, he'd been hiding on top of the walls; a bold strategy that would have been difficult to spot with all the water raining down on them.

They yelled and charged forward at Buck when he was least prepared for it. The blow knocked the Simulacrum backwards and into one of the deeper pits of the water. Only five feet in diameter but roughly ten feet deep, it was quite the claustrophobic space to engage in a fight.

The other Pilot dived in after him, intending to finish Buck off. Underwater, they fought for control of his Alternator. Its aim shifted within hair's breadth of both of them several times before he went for a different approach and straight up yanked it away and shoved it out of either of their reach.

The Pilot stretched out his arm, reaching for his only hope at defeating the ACES soldier. Buck pulled him back and simply held him close, refusing to allow either of them to surface.

He didn't need oxygen to live; the other Pilot did.

The man's kicks became more violent and aggressive, threatening to pull out of Buck's grasp. One of his feet shook his arm free enough to shove himself up before Buck could grab him again. Yanking on the collar of the man's armor, he decided that perhaps he'd need to speed things up.

He hated having to do any of this, but he reminded himself; it wasn't his fault for being placed in this situation, it was whatever evil woman was behind the mysterious voice. She was responsible for everything that happened, and he'd make sure she paid for it.

He formed his metallic fingers into as angled a fist as he could, allowing the sharp edge of the knuckles to be at their most lethal. With as much force as he could muster underwater, he swiped it across the Pilot's throat and felt horrified but relieved when red began to bubble into the water around them.

A warmth could be felt underwater, and Buck realized that the man had soiled himself in his terror. None of what had transpired between them was of malicious intent, but to say that Buck was disturbed by what he'd had to do was an understatement.

As the Pilot's movements became sluggish and began to cease, Buck took the opportunity to grab what he came here for, away from prying eyes of the security monitors in the arena.

 _I'm sorry. But your death is going to save everyone else's lives._

Grabbing the bracelet on the Pilot's arm, he quickly tugged it off and placed it in a pouch on his chest. Hopefully that would hold it until it was time. With nothing left to do, he kicked himself free of the Pilot's corpse and swam back up through the bloody water.

Splashing his way out of the pit, his body shook from the stress that had just taken place. It had been awful, horrifying, inhumane …

Necessary.

Sloshing through the maze, he made his way out and slowly approached the others. Vale turned to see him, and sighed with relief. "God, you were gone for so long that we thought … well, she didn't say we'd won yet."

He looked up to where the voice normally came from, and earned a little more hatred for her. She'd deliberately refrained from telling his team that he'd survived so that they could worry? Bitch.

"What happened in there?" she said concernedly, grabbing his shoulder and then pulling her hand away with red all over. "You're completely covered in blood."

He remained silent, unwilling to speak about the lengths he'd had to go to in order to kill the Pilot. She took it as a sign, and wisely decided not to press the subject.

" _The Live Fire match is over. I am most impressed with your continued success, Pilots. Perhaps having the Simulacrum is quite the advantage for you."_

They remained silent, having nothing to say to her. After a moment, the voice drawled, _"Place your devices in the pod before stepping back into the capsule. Medical attention will be provided for those who require it in your quarters."_

A number five could be seen on the monitor above the pod, awaiting their deposited bracelets. Rose handed his off to Gray who put both of theirs in before helping him hobble into the capsule. Fallon required leaning on Vale for support, and they threw theirs in too.

Buck stepped forward and pretended to have a moment of hesitation like he'd done last time. The illusion needed to be complete for it to work. With an air of finality, he dropped his in and began the ignition stage of his plan.

The panels of their side of the arena split apart to reveal the capsule once more, its tinted windows and closed in space a grim reminder that they knew nothing of wait waited for them in the facility. All he had to go on were those recordings, and they weren't much; but they were something.

All of them entered together and took their well-earned respite. Fallon slid down against a wall, a trail of blood left behind wherever his wound rubbed against. Rose leaned against the side, struggling to maintain his composure. Gray watched him and Fallon carefully while Vale watched Buck.

"So," she said resignedly, "I guess we didn't die this time. Lucky us, huh?"

He looked at her and said quite seriously, "How thick do you think this glass is?"

She jerked backwards slightly. "What? I don't-"

"Quickly," he ordered.

She immediately looked around their walls, floor, and ceiling at the glass which only gave them dim shapes and lighting of what was around them. "For the use of keeping six pilots from escaping, a few centimeters at least, if not inches. It'd take some dedicated force to break-"

She stopped speaking mid-sentence as she turned and saw Buck strapping the dead Pilot's device onto his wrist. He looked at the rest of them staring back at him and raised his hand.

"It's time."

Without waiting another second, he phase shifted.

The floor beneath him felt tough, definitely something that would be hard to phase through with so little time; but he could manage. He'd have to.

Forcing himself downward, it felt like he was trying to swim in solid ground. It was such a unique feeling, moving through solid objects. It took some real effort, but assuming he forced himself enough and the shift didn't end prematurely, then he … could just …

Not a moment too soon, he forced himself through the floor and reappeared in reality. Hooking his fingers around the edge of the capsule, he barely managed to stop himself from falling into the depths below. Wherever this facility was, it was underground in a massive cavern or similar; wherever there wasn't construction, there was rock and void.

He could hear pounding on the capsule from the others as they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Hurriedly, he ascended the side of the capsule and pulled himself atop it. It was attached to a rail, its only method of transport throughout the facility. There was a generator next to it, presumably what was powering it along.

Without missing a beat, he drove his fist hard into it and was rewarded with a shower of sparks.

Immediately, the capsule stopped moving on the rail and the holographic projections keeping the glass from being transparent winked out of existence. Now they could see him on top of the capsule, and he hailed them over the comms.

" _Well … this is interesting."_

"Break the glass!" he ordered, stomping his clawed metallic foot with as much effort as he could muster.

" _You heard him, let's do this!"_ he heard Rose exclaim. All four of the other Pilots began to jump and hit the ceiling as powerfully as they could, using their jump packs to assist them. Fallon pulled his helmet off, and used it as a battering ram.

" _I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed. How resourceful of you, Pilot."_

Shit, that voice knew what he was doing. "HARDER!" he shouted, hoping to to still free them from the capsule.

They continued to pound away at it, refusing to let hope die now that escape was just within their grasp.

Finally, Buck saw a fracture appear and he focused his attention on driving all of his force into that focal point. Again, and again, and again …

He knelt down and began to drive his fist in instead, hoping that he'd have greater accuracy. The crack spread wider, but it wasn't deep enough yet. Almost-

" _BUCK, LOOK OUT!"_ Vale yelled over the comms, and he moved out of the way just in time to dodge a well-placed shot from a hovering IMC drone. There were more of them approaching too, ready to overwhelm him in seconds if he stayed.

" _Run!"_

" _Get out of here, Buck!"_

He didn't want to abandon them, to leave them after they were so close-

Rose ordered one final time, _"Save yourself! Live to fight another day, my friend!"_

Gathering his resolve, he spotted a large pipe that led deeper into the facility. Getting as much of a running jump as he could garner, he ran and leapt into the air before activating his jump pack, barely managing to grip the edge of the side and pull himself up. He heard cheers from his team behind him, encouraging him on.

" _Yeah, Buck!"_

" _You can make it! Run!"_

He turned back. "I promise, I-"

" _No,"_ came Vale's voice, _"I get the feeling you'd be stupid enough to mount a rescue attempt if I let you finish that sentence. There's no hope for us at this point; just get out of this hell, and when you get back, just-"_

Her voice broke. _"Just remember us, okay?"_

He felt broken. "Vale-"

She cut him off. _"Go on! Live for us!"_

With a final glance toward the capsule, he turned and ran along the pipe, away from the drones and his friends. Away from the arenas, and towards the dark shadowy crevices that he'd be able to hide in until he could find a way out. All the while, their captor taunted him as he fled.

" _You can run, and you can hide, but you cannot win. No matter how long it takes to find you, I_ _ **will.**_ _You sealed your fate the moment you broke out of containment."_

" _You're nothing but a dead man walking."_

* * *

 _ **A/N: Since the site is having issues at the moment and won't notify readers of new chapters, I'm just going to take this chapter down and reupload it once per day until the site is fixed. That way, at some point a notification should pop up for readers. At least, that's what I'm hoping.**_

 _ **\- Matteoarts**_


	7. The Few Against Many

Buck listened to the sounds of water dripping onto miscellaneous pipes from the slick rocks above that made up the majority of the cave that this facility was built around. He steadied himself, focusing all of his attention on the audio around him, trying to get a feel for whether he was still being followed.

Nothing but silence and echoing drips awaited him.

Taking the moment to recuperate, he allowed the tension to leave his metallic frame. He had to come up with some sort of plan to get the rest of them out, as well as their Titans; but how? What chance did he have, wet, cold, and alone in this god-forsaken place?

He thought about his options. He could try to find a way out himself, but he'd be abandoning the others, as well as EV and the rest of the Titans to die. So that was a big no.

But if he tried to mount any rescue op, he'd more than likely be killed before making any real impact. The problem was that he had no firepower, no plan, and no help. He was hopelessly outnumbered-

He stopped his mind's progress for a moment, and thought about that again. Maybe, yes, he was outnumbered physically; but if he had some intel about this place, or someone else to talk to about getting the slightest advantage … he might have a chance.

He definitely couldn't go anywhere to get info; not only would he likely be caught, but on the off-chance that he wasn't, they would know what he was up to. So he'd have to settle for talking to someone else and hoping they had what he needed, and he knew who he wanted to talk to.

Problem was that his link with her was suppressed; he wasn't going to be able to get in touch with her unless he found out exactly what was doing the job. Some kind of very fine-tuned magnetic field might be enough to distort it a bit, but not enough to completely silence it. And it wasn't destroyed either, he could feel it in his mind; a door that just refused to open.

The only other thing he could think of was that there was something on him- more than likely _in_ him- that was rejecting the connection. Light surgical implants would be handled easily enough for the human Pilots, but a Simulacrum would need to have something like that wedged deep into their inner workings. And there weren't any tools around that he could use to pry himself open, especially not in such a place where he might have to run at a moment' notice.

So … there was really only one option left to him, and it was going to have quite the brutal result if he messed it up. Doing one last look around to ensure that no other search parties of drones were nearby, he allowed himself to phase shift.

Now, he still sat on the same pipe he'd been situated on, but the world was an inferno of black and white waviness once more. He looked down at his own form, somewhat translucent like the rest of his surroundings, and quickly analyzed it for anomalies. If there was something there that wasn't supposed to be there, he'd be able to pinpoint it-

 _There._ He saw a small foreign object, disc-like in appearance and tiny enough to be hidden, lodged in the crevices of his chest cavity. The humans would need to have their implants pretty close to their brain, either in the neck or actually in the skull itself, but he didn't have the problem of a physical neurological anchor anymore. His important systems were all in his torso, nothing more than the artificial nervous system actually connected to his head.

So long as that thing was there, escape was impossible. He knew the risk of doing this, but there wasn't really anything else that could be done; this was the only path forward.

Steadying his nerves, he plunged his hand into his chest.

There wasn't much resistance to be had, probably due to the much thinner casing of his frame compared to the thick glass that had made up the capsule. Still, it was unpleasant; a feeling like cold mercury ignited wherever his hand moved, and the thought of coming out of phase with his hand still in his chest was enough to make him anxious.

Fortunately, he was able to get a good grip on the disc inside and wasted no time in pulling both it and his arm back out before returning to the physical realm.

Upon popping back into reality, he was able to get a better look at the thing; it appeared flat at first, no more than a small coin-shaped object, but with closer inspection he was able to see miniature teeth that wrapped around the perimeter of it and allowed it to attach itself to whatever it needed to as an avoidance to becoming dislodged.

With disgust in his grip, he crushed the thing and threw the particles into the chasm.

As soon as the disc was destroyed, he jolted in shock as his mind enjoyed a rushing sensation he hadn't felt in years; one of a neurological link being reestablished. And on the other end … he could feel _her_ again.

Apparently, she felt the same thing because it wasn't a moment later that he heard a tentative voice quietly ask, _… Cedric?_

He felt his chest rise with excitement at hearing the North Star's voice again. "Yeah, Eve. It's me."

 _But, how? They informed us that you-_

"I escaped from their damn game, or whatever they call it. 'Live Fire,' I think they call it. Right now, I'm hiding out in the cave system and I managed to rip the link-suppressor out of me."

EV wasn't one to waste time when action was required. _Understood. What's the plan?_

He was grateful for her focus on the task at hand. "It all comes down to us; if we don't do something, all the other Pilots are going to die. We need to figure out a way to break them out, as well as free you and the other Titans from wherever you're being held."

 _I am unable to assist physically, at least until you release us._ She gave a thoughtful hum. _But perhaps I can be of some assistance in other ways._

"I was hoping you'd say that," he muttered. "What've you got?"

 _The other Titans and I are being kept in a large chamber not too different in size from the Titan storage barracks aboard frigates. Whenever a Pilot is killed, their corresponding Titan is taken and destroyed. We are unable to escape due to both short-range disruptors installed on our chassises, as well as the fear of dooming our Pilot should we attempt to do so._

"Alright, disruptors on your bodies. Got it. Don't know how we'd get them off, if we even had the time to do it while-"

 _The monitoring room they use to keep tabs on us is nearby. Within should be the control matrix for the disruptors, as well as minor access to other systems. We've made very small attempts to backtrack through the signal and reverse the process so that we can access the control matrix's intel. From the little we've been able to gather, there should be an armament within half a klick of this chamber; one that the control room can grant you entry to._

Now they were getting somewhere. "Alright, weapons' cache nearby; need to get into that control room to access it, as well as kill the disruptors attached to you guys." He mulled that over for a moment. "How many Pilots are there?"

 _When we first arrived, there were around three-hundred Titans, and I assume all of them had Pilots._

Holy shit. That was a much bigger number than he'd been anticipating. How many arenas had this place constructed?

"And how many are there now?"

 _Including myself, there are thirty-two of us left._

That put the whole hellish situation into perspective; every round that continued, their numbers had been halved and then some. Hundreds had died to this place's sadistic tournament, and the rest of them would too if he didn't succeed. He couldn't imagine that the voice was particularly keen on the idea of keeping them around now that he'd escaped.

Had this place been having these matches before them? Was he the first to ever escape? He doubted that they were the beginning wave, especially for so much effort to have been put into this facility. And he'd certainly never heard of this place before, so it was a good bet that there truly was no escape for any eventual victors.

It was time to break the mold.

"Alright, Eve … here's what we're gonna do."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Somewhat short update, but this story is shorter in general anyways. Not really a good stopping point other than here, because next chapter is going to kick things off hot.**_

 _ **Until the next time,**_

 _ **\- Matteoarts**_


	8. Dead Man Walking

Something was shaking her. The fluid grasp of sleep was slowly relinquishing its hold on her mind, and she struggled to reign in her attention.

"Vale. Vale, get up."

She recognized the voice, and it helped her to snap out of her groggy mental state. Lifting her head up to stare at her waker and push the short strands of hair out of her eyes, she found Rose looking down at her prone form. Once she was up, he extended a hand down to help lift her onto her feet. Still somewhat sleepily, she took it.

"What's happening?" she mumbled.

"There wasn't any announcement," he explained quietly, "but it came anyway. I think- I think maybe this is it. The last match."

She was confused about what 'it' was until she saw the capsule ready by the exit, waiting on them to enter before departing for whatever arena awaited them today. Fallon and Gray were looking at it with an obvious apprehension in their expression; the same kind of apprehension that she was now feeling as she stared blankly at it.

Rose patted her on the back to stop her from zoning out, and put his helmet on. "You ready?"

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "Yeah. I'm ready."

…

"I am so not ready for this," Buck grunted.

 _You don't have much choice,_ EV reminded him with urgency in her tone, _she's moving fast. It has to be now, or all of them will die._

"I know", he replied as quietly as he could, what with having to hold onto the ledge of the platform he was slowly making progress around.

Two decked out security officers stood atop it, not really paying attention to anything in particular, but still standing guard as their position required. He supposed that either they weren't very worried about him potentially returning to where he'd escaped, or maybe his breakout had just been kept under wraps altogether. Maybe that lady wasn't keen on the idea of alerting others to the fact that she'd failed in containing the Pilots.

Whatever. Time to move.

Jumping into action, he vaulted over the edge and immediately charged the officers. One was dispatched via a snapped neck, something that he definitely did not see coming until his head was forcibly twisted into looking at his killer. The other heard the slight noise, but barely had time to react before Buck's foot collided with his midsection and launched him into the darkness of the chasm below.

Once the area was clear, Buck glanced around to make sure that no alarms had been triggered and he was still undetected. As expected, nothing but silence and faint but echoing hums awaited him.

The platform which he stood on was a loading dock of some sort, with various large tools lying about. He supposed that this must have been what had been used to receive the stunned Titans while they were fitted with the disruptors. A massive door adorned the wall against which the platform was situated, presumably where the Titans were being kept.

Turning towards the wall, he ordered, "Eve, patch into my ocular systems."

After a moment, she gave a small hum of thought. _Our prison is behind that large door. Access to the monitoring room can be found to the right, along the catwalk._

He turned his head to follow her guidance, and was rewarded with a sight of another, smaller door a few yards beyond the barracks' entrance.

Stealthily, he ran to it with as much care in his footsteps as he could, minding his surroundings and taking note to use the advantage of the cargo around him as cover should the need arise. Fortunately, it wasn't needed and he made it to the door without any complications.

It slid open at his presence, evidently a motion activated variant. Inside was an ascending ramp, one that EV had indicated would lead to the monitoring room and the control matrix for the disrupters, as well as access to the weapons cache nearby. With not much time left, he made his way upwards and onwards.

The ramp ended in an open doorway into a small room with viewing glass and a command console readily available. Two more grunts were stationed here, watching whatever was beyond the glass and ensuring that everything was proceeding as normal.

One of them stood up to walk out of the room, and Buck took his chance.

The world became grey-scale, and sounds became muffled as though they were underwater. He could see the outlines of the grunts, faint and gaseous; one sitting at the console, and the other walking slowly towards him. Moving forward, he grabbed the upright outline and began forcing himself into the in-between reality of the man's body.

The silhouette began convulsing slightly, pain evidently making itself known throughout his form. He heard the other grunt call in that muffled tone, _"You alright?"_ before he exited phase shift and caused the man to combust outward, red chunks of meat and tissue splattering every which way.

Now standing where the other had been a moment before, he looked to see the other rifleman in complete shock over what had just happened. Without skipping a beat like the veteran he was, Buck grabbed the man's throat and crushed his neck in his metal fist.

The man's body now limp and unresponsive, he noticed an insignia upon the shoulder of their uniform.

"Vinson Dynamics," he spoke aloud, rolling the word over in his mind.

As far as he knew, they were just another robotics company like Hammond had originally been; maybe, just like Hammond, they had expanded beyond simple production of machinery and perhaps into more insidious fields. The simple fact that the hired hand here had been wearing their emblem was ample proof of that.

Letting the corpse slump to the floor, he opted to investigate that point of interest later in favor of working on the task at hand. Moving to the command console, he gazed out of the glass to see a large holding area beneath the room, racks of incapacitated Titans adorning the walls.

He could see quite a few of empty spaces, and the weight of all the Pilots who had died in these Live Fire matches hit him again. After today, he would make sure that no one ever had to suffer through these sadistic games ever again.

EV's voice sounded in his head once again, _Find the control matrix; it should be on the console._

He scanned the board of various buttons and screens with projected levels on them. Finally, he saw one with what appeared to be a roster of serial numbers and green lights next to each. He checked the quantity; thirty two. That lined up with what EV had told him, so he knew that this was it.

Below the screen was a handled switch. It had a guard over it preventing it from being released without proper tools to remove the guard. He gave a synthetic sigh, and patted down the corpse which he'd dropped a minute beforehand.

"For the love of …" he grumbled, not happy about having to do extra work. Now with a P2016 in his hand, he unloaded onto the guard until it was nothing but shattered pieces of itself. Behind it, ricochet marks and dents had damaged the machinery a bit. He gave a small prayer that he hadn't broken anything vital, and flipped the switch.

After a moment, the green lights next to the serial numbers all turned red, and warning lights began to turn on in the barracks below. With a resounding echo of _ker_ - _chunk_ throughout the chambers, the racks allowed the Titans to detach. They caught themselves as they fell, and immediately began to work on yanking off the disruptors attached to their chassises.

 _I've told them all what we're doing,_ EV explained, _they know what the plan is._

"Yeah," he muttered absentmindedly as he made sure that every Titan was now free, "about that; not sure how well this plan is going to work out if I can't get the other Pilots out in time. Can you tell me where they are?"

 _Hold on._ He waited patiently until a familiar North Star stepped into view below and waved at him. He gave her one in return and awaited her word as she accessed the systems through the now inactive signal of the disruptor.

 _Alright, they're- oh no._

That didn't sound good. "What's wrong?"

 _She's doing away with all of them, trying to end it all here. She's directing all thirty two pilots into a new chamber, some kind of battle-royale arena. If you don't get to them fast-_

"Then we're gonna have a lot of Titans without their Pilots on our hands," he finished grimly. "I'm on it. Opening the doors for you guys now, and then I'm off to the weapons cache." Hurriedly, he unlocked access to all facilities that this station had control over.

 _Understood. It should be along the left catwalk, half a klick down._

He didn't take the time to thank her as he quickly sprinted out of the room and back down the ramp as the massive door began to open. He was back at the loading platform before it finally finished raising into the ceiling and the Titans were able to exit for the first time in several weeks.

EV walked over to him, the quake of her footfalls the most comforting sound he'd heard in quite a while. She knelt down, and allowed him to pat the top of her optic's housing unit. Once he was finished, she pointed in the direction she'd been referring to earlier.

"The cache should be that way. I'll guide the other Titans to the rendezvous."

He nodded, and took off running. He needed to arm himself properly, and they were quickly running out of time.

It was now or never.

…

Once again, a panel of the arena slid aside to welcome the participants in. Vale stepped in first, followed by Rose, then Gray and Fallon. Unusual, however, was the stadium itself.

Instead of a rectangular box with various environmental factors and obstacles within it, it seemed to be a rather large cylindrical arena with a view of some far off mountain range and the sky projected onto the holographic panels. In the center were three pillars, erected up until they stopped about halfway to the roof.

Another peculiar sight was the fact that there wasn't just another team awaiting them this time; it seemed as though there were far more Pilots here than normal. Were they supposed to fight more than one team at once?

The others seemed just as confused as they were, and milled about aimlessly until a speaker powered on and they awaited whatever the sinister voice on the other end had to say.

" _Welcome to the final match of Live Fire; Coliseum. I regret to inform you that due to … unforeseen complications … I've had to rush your progression."_

That had to be Buck's doing. If anything, she was at least glad that the ACES soldier had managed to piss off their captor so much.

" _As such, today your goal is slightly different than it has been in the past."_

There was an uncomfortable pause, allowing tensions to rise in the Pilots' ranks before she continued.

" _There are no teams. Kill everyone. The last Pilot left standing will be allowed to live."_

The line was delivered with dripping malice, and Vale felt her breath leave her. Kill … everyone? Rose, Gray? Fallon? How would she be able to do that, after everything they'd been through together?

" _I understand that some of you may be opposed to this idea; but as the saying goes, it's every man for himself."_

" _The Live Fire match will begin in fifteen sec-"_

"No."

She did not yell it, but she said it firmly enough to where she knew the rest of the arena, as well as the voice could hear her. There was a silence as they stared blankly at her, fear and shock upon all their expressions.

The voice became low, with a subtle tone of hostility present. _"… No?"_

Vale shook her head defiantly for all to see. "Look at us; all of us have done what we had to do, for our survival just as much as our Titans. We've killed many of our own, this psychotic 'game' forcing us time and time again to disregard who we are and take whatever chance we could at making it to the next day."

Her voice had steadily risen in volume until it finally dropped back down as she let the tension leave her body. "No more. I, for one, am sick of being someone else's puppet."

The voice sneered. _"If you will not fight, then both you and your Titan will be-"_

"Then do it!" she yelled angrily. "I know that he would be proud to know that I upheld _my_ mission; to not become a monster like you." She pointed accusingly upward at wherever the voice was coming from. "Buck may have been a simulacrum, but he was more human than you'll ever be, you bitch!"

Silence descended on the arena once more, threatening to burst with every passing second that it endured.

Finally, a small clatter came from a group of Pilots some yards away from them. Looking over, she saw that one of them had thrown his rifle he'd grabbed from the ordnance pod onto the ground. It lay there unmoving, and he stood there unyielding.

Slowly, more Pilots around the arena threw down their arms and joined one another in unity against their torturer. She noticed the sound of shuffling feet, and turned to see Rose and the rest of her team moving forward to surround her in strength together.

Once more, quiet fell over the arena. After a few moments, the voice gave a resigned hum.

" _Very well. If I have to execute you myself, then so be it. Ready a team of Stalkers for insertion-"_

Her words were cut off as a faint boom could be heard outside the walls of the arena. All of the Pilots turned their heads to garner where it had come from before another, louder echo was heard and they all decided on a general direction from which it was emanating.

It seemed to take pause, and Rose muttered, "What the hell was that?"

Then the wall of the arena exploded.

* * *

 _ **A/N: REVIEEEEEWWWWWS**_

 _ **That is all.**_

 _ **Until the next time,**_

 _ **\- Matteoarts**_


	9. A Fighting Chance

The panels of the coliseum shorted out, going dark as rubble and dust came crashing down from one side of the arena. Once it had settled somewhat and visibility was better, Vale took a look to see just what the hell had happened.

She almost couldn't believe it; standing inside the newly created exit was Buck, holding a smoking Archer and waving them forward.

"COME ON!" he yelled, "GRAB A WEAPON, AND MOVE!"

Jolted into action by his command, all of the Pilots began to pick their munitions back up and sprint towards the hole. With a dazed smile creeping onto her face, she ran to an ordnance pod and grabbed a Spitfire.

"You heard him, let's get the hell out of here!" called Rose, urging everyone onward.

She wasted no time in scrambling up the wreckage along with everyone else, only stopping when she made it to Buck's side as he ushered people out of the hole and onto the adjacent platform outside. He noticed, and reacted accordingly.

"Vale!" he exclaimed, "You made it! Thank God, I thought I might've been too late-"

She cut him off by moving forward and throwing her arms around his metallic form. He froze for only a moment before reciprocating the action, each of them enjoying the tender moment before pulling away.

She gestured at the hole with quite a few questions lined up in her head. "How … ?"

He hefted the archer and patted his belt. "Set some satchels against the side of this thing, and used a rocket to trigger them. I figured that the wall had to give way after _some_ amount of damage, so why hold back?"

"How'd you even get that stuff?" she asked in awe.

"I stole a bit from a weapon's cache on the way here," he explained with a chuckle. "And I couldn't have done it without- well, I guess you'll see in a few moments."

Rose, Gray, and Fallon stopped as well, greeting their friend again. "I knew you were softer than you looked," Rose laughed while patting Buck on the shoulder. "Thought we told you to get out of here?"

He shrugged. "I told you, we're a team. And I'm not leaving my team behind." Waving for them to follow, he hopped down onto the platform where the other thirty or so Pilots were waiting for what came next.

"Alright," he called, "we don't have long before they start reacting. If we don't move fast, then-"

An alarm began to ring at that moment, echoing throughout the facility and alerting any forces that there was a breach.

"Well, that will happen," he said abruptly. "Doesn't change the plan; today, we're in this together rather than against each other. A lot of this place is like a production warehouse or something; they've got assembly lines all over the place."

He pointed along a massive wall, one such line visible in the distance. "Keep following that one, and we'll be able to rendezvous with our Titans. We're gonna meet some heavy resistance, but if all goes well then we'll find ourselves a nice cargo route that we can use as an exit. Everyone ready?"

Cheers were received all around, everyone itching for a fight with those that placed them here now that they had a real chance.

"Then let's move!" Buck ordered, and they began their exodus.

 **…**

This certainly hadn't been part of the day's itinerary at all. While she definitely loathed the Pilot now leading the others to freedom, she was never one to deny someone respect where it was due, and he had certainly shown resolve and resourcefulness that she wouldn't have thought possible in his situation.

"Ma'am," one of her subordinates called, "the Pilots are moving as a unity along an assembly line."

"Which one?" she asked quietly.

He checked the monitor. "Twelve, ma'am."

She pulled up a mental map of the facility, and tried to think of where they'd possibly be heading. If their goal was escape, then they didn't have many other options other than-

"The main loading deck," she muttered aloud, "it has a road for transporting cargo in and out of the base, correct?"

He checked the schematics of the facility, not gifted with artificial memory banks like she was. "Yes."

She thought about that. Considering that their operation here was under the guise of a simple production facility, they didn't have much in the way of defenses or methods of keeping them trapped here. They'd simply have to be killed before escaping, otherwise they'd likely call for evacuation and the site's cover would be blown.

"Place enforcement teams in the cargo-deck," she ordered, "I don't want any of them leaving with the knowledge they possess. If they do, that responsibility falls on Vinson Dynamics, and in turn … you."

The subtle threat was clear, and the officer nodded. "Understood ma'am."

"Good."

She turned back towards the security monitors. In truth, she had little faith that these men would stop the Pilots altogether; some of them, maybe even many of them perhaps; but not all. If she truly wanted them dead, she'd embark her own Titan and be down there with them. For once, her goals aligned with theirs.

Although ... that wasn't to say that she couldn't take a little revenge on the one who'd done her wrong.

If he'd given her all this trouble, then she was going to make him pay for it.

 **…**

Sliding under a large arm as it moved to grab a metal wall from the assembly line, Buck grabbed a frag from his belt and tossed it over at a few grunts who had moved to intercept the congregation of Pilots. The threat was eliminated with a resounding boom not a second later, and he leapt back up into a sprint with the others.

"It's not far! Just a bit-"

Hearing the sound of gunfire, he looked below them and to the right and saw what he was looking for; a massive platform built into the rock of the cave, where all of their Titans were now residing. As he watched, some of them took out a few pesky groups of grunts who had attempted to challenge them with no luck. The rest of them sat idly by, waiting for them.

"That's our stop, people!" he yelled.

Heeding his words, all of them made their way to the right and leapt down to the platform waiting below. He followed suit, allowing his jump-kit to absorb the impact, and watched as all the other Pilots eagerly made their way to their own Titans. Hearty reunions were shared all around, and if he could have, he would have smiled; he knew that the bond between a Pilot and Titan was like no other, and it meant a lot to everyone to see their other half again.

A few yards away, he saw Vale run towards a black Ronin with gold accents. It knelt down to meet her enthusiastically, allowing her to press herself against it in an attempt at a hug. "Oh man, I missed you big guy."

"Likewise, Pilot."

"It's a common feeling amongst everyone today," came a familiar voice, and he looked up to see EV walking towards him. He detected warmth in her voice as well as his chest at his excitement to work with her again.

"What's the plan here?" asked Gray, coming up behind him with Fallon at her side. Her question grabbed the attention of everyone else as well, and they waited to hear what the one who'd got them this far had in the way of ideas.

"First off," he said loudly so that all could hear, "You won't be able to Pilot your Titans; they've got chips in all of you that are suppressing your link with them."

"How are we supposed to fight our way out then?" called a Pilot in IMC gear.

"For a good chunk of you, the safest option for escape is going to be riding in your Titan's hull; you won't be able to do anything, but it's better than the other job." He waved at all of them generally. "I'll need a good lot of you to be fighting alongside your Titan on foot; we can't rely on just the Titans to push through whatever forces we're gonna face."

Quite a few hands raised to volunteer for the task, including all of his own original team. He surmised that they were more than willing to get some payback for what had happened to them here in the facility. Nodding his head, he pointed forward. "Alright then, those of you that volunteered; ride atop your Titan so that you're ready to go to ground when we get there. The rest of you, hop inside your Titan's hull and hope that it's a good fighter. We move out on my command."

They moved into action, shuffling around and going about whichever job they were fulfilling. Vale however, walked towards him. "What about your chip?"

He shrugged. "I removed it while I was hiding out in the cave, used my phasing ability to do so. I think that our captor is beginning to realize how bad of an idea it was to bring a Simulacrum here."

She looked up at her Titan, and then back at him. "Can you remove mine?"

He jerked back. "No. Your flesh and organic nerves are a lot more complex than my wiring. I could kill you by removing it for all we know-"

"We are about to march straight into the most important battle for our lives so far," she argued, "and I am not about to sit by in my Titan when I could be helping."

He fell silent, thinking about it. He didn't want to risk it, but it would be nice to have another Pilot-controlled Titan backing him up …

"Besides," she pleaded, "If I die, I want to link with Skids one last time. I'd rather go down fighting with him together than apart."

He knew the feeling all too well; hell, he wouldn't want any other death than going down with EV by his side. He gave a synthetic sigh, and relented. "Fine, but … just be aware of how dangerous this is."

She scoffed, removing her helmet and pulling her hair up to give him as best a view as possible. "As if anything we've done already was _safe_."

"This may hurt a bit." Giving one last second for her to back out, he phased and analyzed the back of her head.

He was right, they _had_ been surgically implanted. He could see it now, small and stuck to the base of her skull. Gently easing his hand into her neck, he wiggled his fingers forward as she tensed up and shook in discomfort; he didn't expect that this was a welcome feeling.

As quickly as he could, he gripped the edges of it, and began to take it back with him into the phase reality. Hurriedly, he pulled his hand out and popped back into reality.

Vale immediately clutched the back of her head with her hands, grimacing. "Damn, that … that did not feel right."

"I told you," he scolded, then held up the chip. "Nonetheless, the job is done."

Inside, he was relieved that it had gone so well. He didn't dare try it on anyone else with as little time as they had, as well as the risky nature of it; but he was glad that she was free. He held it out to her, and she took it cautiously. It was wet, a thin membrane of blood and a few bits of flesh stuck to its surface.

Throwing it on the ground, she crushed it beneath her heel and reeled back in shock. He knew what she was feeling; the rush of her neural link manifesting itself once again. "I can … it worked!"

Nearby, her Titan- Skids she'd called it- tilted his chassis as he experienced the same sensation. "The link is intact, and fully functional again. It's good to have you back, Amelia."

"Likewise," she laughed, and hurriedly climbed into his waiting cockpit. The Ronin's hatch closed, and its eye looked down at him a moment later. This time, it was Vale's voice that came out of the voice-modulator. "I've got your back, Buck."

He nodded gratefully, and turned around to embark his own Titan. Leaning down, EV opened her hull and allowed him entry. Pulling himself inside, he sat down as she stood back up and closed it before displaying her optical display in front of him. All the other Titans and Pilots stood at the ready, awaiting his next command.

He pointed EV's arm towards the platform's base, where it transitioned into a paved road that was obviously meant for ground vehicles. "That's the way to the loading deck, and our ticket out of here. Let's move!"

They were gonna rip their captors a new one.


	10. Extraction

_Until we come within significantly closer range, I can't hail any Militia frequencies. The walls and our current underground elevation are hindering any signals' progress._

He nodded, accepting that information. "Options?"

 _Once we make it near enough to the exit, I may be able to redirect it through the IMC dishes around the area, and use them to our advantage. They should be enough to allow us to make an emergency broadcast to the Militia FLEETCOM._

He considered that. The Fleet Command would definitely be their best bet for a pickup; the only problem was how quickly they would arrive. As it was however, it was still their best bet. "Understood. I'll relay it to everyone else."

Speaking on an open channel, he opened the line to all the Pilots and Titans in the vicinity. "If we're gonna make it out of here, we'll need to fight our way outside. We can hail Militia FLEETCOM from there, and hopefully get a speedy evac."

" _Why Militia forces?"_ came a Pilot's voice, doubt evident in his tone. _"Not sure how kindly they'll take to any of us who are IMC."_

"I told you" he retorted, "we're a team. We can worry about nuances like that later, but right now our priority is getting out of here; we're all on the same side now."

No one replied, and he could tell that while they were still apprehensive, they would, for the time being, adhere to that promise.

All thirty or so Titans ran along the road that stretched throughout the facility for vehicles transporting troops and supplies to other areas of the enormous complex. Every so often, they'd come across light armored ones carrying soldiers who would make a choice; report them but not engage, or try to stop them. After the first attempt, not many of them tried the latter approach.

After encountering almost no resistance thus far, EV flashed a warning on the display. _We are nearing the cargo bay and loading dock; my sensors indicate that there is a large force waiting for us beyond the doors._

The doors in question were two massive Titan-sized doors that met each other to close of entry to their goal. Presumably they slid apart to allow passage, but he had a feeling that they'd been locked down. Turning towards the sea of Titans behind him, he raised EV's fist to grab their attention and give a show of strength.

"Beyond these doors is freedom; not all of us are gonna make it, but more of us will if we work together. Even if you die, your efforts will aid another in surviving."

Not a word of disagreement was expressed; they were all unified in this. Each knew the chances of surviving were small, but that didn't matter. If they were going to die, they were going to go down swinging.

He gestured to a few Titans in front, and waved for them to come behind him. "We're gonna blow these doors open, and engage as the frontline. Pilots," he ordered, swiveling EV's chassis towards the ones who'd volunteered to fight, "use us as cover to get to a position with your Titan and start taking out any infantry you can. Let the Titans handle the larger threats."

He looked at the rest of them. "Everyone else, engage only after we've established a stable defense and then begin to push forward. We need to break through whatever they've got in there if we're going to make it outside. Should be a straight shot from here."

Rotating EV's optics, he glanced over at Vale and Skids. The Titan released the underside of his leadwall, and flashed a thumbs up. Judging from the rather stiff personality he'd heard from the Ronin earlier, he could only imagine that it was Vale giving him the sign. Nodding appreciatively, he turned to the doors.

"On my mark!" he commanded. Raising the equipped railgun, he began to charge it and prime a cluster missile simultaneously. When he was positive of each's respective targets, he allowed both to release and took pleasure in the massive groan as several tons of metal blew apart and allowed them access beyond.

"GO, GO, GO!" he yelled, taking the lead with the other Titans and charging through the now smoking remnants of the doors.

Immediately, they came under fire. One hundred yards away was an inclining road that he could _see_ led outside; the sky beckoned to all of them, urging them onward. Unfortunately, there were waves of hired grunts and Titans alike, all of them aiming to kill the group that was now charging through their defenses.

Quickly, he and the other Titans of the frontline took cover behind structural pillars that stood tall to assist with the infrastructure of the facility. He watched as the ground Pilots ran with them, ducking into cover as soon as they were able.

"Eve, I'm gonna peek. Get me an analysis on anything useful," he ordered.

 _Understood._

Quickly, he edged out of cover for just a moment, enough for EV's optics to get a good look at the area. As soon as he moved back into safety, she gave a detailed examination of what she'd seen.

 _Numerous ground forces. Many Titans, but we still outnumber them. The biggest threat are any Archers or other AT weapons that the riflemen may be utilizing._

He groaned. He hated having to deal with those things.

 _There are also what appears to be highly explosive fuel canisters waiting to be transported to other regions of the facility. From their linear position, they may cause a chain reaction. I would suggest igniting them for maximum damage._

He perked up a bit. Not only would it take out a sizable chunk of the enemy ground forces out, but it would provide one hell of a distraction. He came to a decision.

"Alright everyone; as soon as you hear the booms, start running! This is it!"

He turned his attention back to EV. "Eve, begin trying to reach FLEETCOM immediately. Let me know as soon as you have a secure connection, and transmit the emergency request."

 _Will do._

He ducked out of cover before the enemy began to push their position. Instantly, rounds began to pepper EV's chassis, as well as a 40mm round that jerked her right arm quite a bit on its socket. Steadying his aim, he hurriedly shot at the easiest canister he could spot and dove back into the safety of the pillar.

The reaction was immediate; explosions began to line the far wall, and screams rang out as the hired grunts began to fall. He even caught the sight of one or two Titans getting engulfed in the inferno before he waved everyone forward. "MOVE!"

" _You heard him!"_ came Vale's voice, _"Let's go!"_

The rest of the survivors began to pour into the loading bay, eager to inch closer to escape with every step they took. Realizing they were out of options, the remaining enemy Titan forces rushed forward to meet them.

One enemy Tone got lucky and tackled one of their own, a Legion. Wrenching the front of the chassis off, they swung their metal fist downward and crushed the screaming Pilot into a bloody pulp. They were quickly dispatched by another Legion and Ronin, the latter of which who kicked the Tone backwards into the Legion who proceeded to shove their Predator Cannon into it and burst it open with a shower of bullets and shrapnel.

A friendly Atlas began to buckle under the impact of several Archer missiles that came from recovering riflemen. Before Buck could react, Vale charged forward with a Pilot rodeoing her back, and began to make short work of them. The Pilot jumped off and assisted her as much as they could with taking out the heavily-geared opponents.

One of their ground Pilots charged forward and was rewarded with a blast of thermite from an enemy Scorch. Buck tried to tune out the man's tortured cries of agony as he charged up the railgun and launched a round that tore right through the Scorch's plating and out the back. A spurt of red appeared, and he could only imagine that he'd obliterated the Pilot inside as the Scorch toppled over without any other resistance.

 _I have established a connection with FLEETCOM. Transmitting evacuation request and current IMC satellite signals to help triangulate our position._

That was one problem down, now they just had to make it outside. Fortunately, it seemed like they were doing rather well with their numbers as it was; they were gaining ground with the other Titans and grunts distracted, and the way out was clear. Seeing an opportunity, he opened a line to Vale on the comms.

"Vale, back me up! I'm heading to the ramp!"

It was a moment before she responded, _"You got it!"_ and he felt comfortable proceeding. Running forward, he saw her on the right as she ran back to meet up with him, leaving the Pilot and his Titan to finish clearing that side of riflemen.

Reaching the base of the incline, he opened comms to everyone in the vicinity, and waved them on. "Everyone, let's move! FLEETCOM is on the way!"

They evidently didn't need to be told twice. Leaving previously engaged fights, all of them began making their way outside, the last wave of them walking backwards to keep sustained fire on those trying to stop him. He did a quick count, noting that there were roughly twenty to twenty-five Titans, and hopefully their accommodating Pilots, left. He hoped it would be enough.

Finally, the band of Titans stepped into the open air. They saw the sky for the first time in weeks, but had no time to enjoy it. Armored vehicles as well as additional Titans were beginning to advance on their position from stations above-ground. He watched as a Stryder's hull was punctured by AA rounds from a jeep's mounted turret, and it sank to its knees before collapsing completely.

"Hold this position!" he yelled, "We need to stay here until evac arrives!"

" _How long until they get here?!"_ called someone anxiously.

"However long it takes," Buck growled, "we don't have a lot of other options here!"

That was certainly true enough. They were being cornered into a clearing here, surrounded on all sides with little cover as they fought to hold their ground. He knew that the Militia would help them if they could, but if they deemed it too dangerous …

 _Please. I'm begging you, please-_

A flash appeared in the sky, and he took the chance to look up and nearly cried with relief. Widow class dropships bearing the Militia insignia descended from above, helping the survivors when they could by gunning down opposing forces.

" _All surviving ground units, form up for retrieval. We can only pick a few of you up at a time, so let's keep the process quick!"_

He made note of the order, and began to issue his own. "Pilots on the ground, get on first with your Titans! Then any Titans carrying their Pilots can hop on each consecutive ship!"

Rose, Gray, and Fallon ran to the first and second ship with their Titans, along with three other surviving ground Pilots. As they departed, Rose gave a wave backwards to show his thanks.

There'd be time for gratitude later. But at least so far it seemed to be an effective system; slowly but surely, the remaining survivors were being evacuated. This was actually working.

He, Vale, and a few other Titans continued to defend the site until there were only four of them left. These last two dropships would be it, and then they'd be home free.

The other two, another Northstar and an Ion, held their ground well. He turned back to look at Vale dicing apart a white Ogre before kicking it backwards and watching it skip across the ground. Looking towards Buck, Vale gave a whoop of exhilaration over the comms.

" _What'd I tell you? There's a reason I call him Skids-"_

In the blink of an eye, a massive sword swiped through the Ronin's left leg and sent it tumbling onto the ground. He froze, shocked as he saw another black and gold Ronin behind the fallen Titan. As he watched, a smug voice rang out from its voice modulator.

" _I am not one to be played for a fool."_

It was _her._

Menacingly, the Ronin placed its large foot on the front of Skids' hull. Through the modulator, he heard Vale's voice give a weak groan; _"B-Buck …"_

" _You've seemed intent on taking away my dignity, ruining my facility and making a mockery of my game."_

Her voice became low and haughty. _"So, I will take something of yours as payment."_

Shoving her foot down, the front of Skids' chassis completely caved in. He heard the grinding and sparking of wires over the comms before it faded to static, the radio systems all but destroyed within.

 _Vale …_

He couldn't even bring himself to cry out in pain as he looked at the Titan's crushed hull, Vale still inside. There was no way she could have survived-

No, he couldn't afford to think that way. Maybe, _just maybe,_ there was a chance. The Ronin seemed ready to fight, almost anticipating a brawl with him. She expected him to retaliate, to try and take revenge on her for Vale and the weeks she'd kept them as prisoners.

Charging up a plasma round, he launched one at the Ronin and forced it to dash backwards. She waited for him to advance-

He quickly hopped out of his Titan, and sprinted to Skids. "Eve, keep me covered!"

" _Easier said than done!"_ replied the Titan, though she followed his command and tried to defend him from the various enemy forces around the area and simultaneously keep the Ronin back. Behind her, the Ion and other Northstar provided as much assistance as they could while backing onto a Widow. The other Widow waited expectantly for Buck and EV.

" _Hurry up and get aboard, we can't wait forever!"_

Hurriedly, he clambered on top of the Ronin's wrecked chassis and noticed that against all odds, the data core was intact; damaged, but intact. He quickly pulled it, and then moved onto his second and far more important task.

Phasing, he pushed himself through the resistant metal outlines, and found the broken form of Vale inside the hull. He couldn't get a good look at her, but it seemed as though she'd been impaled in several different angles and location by various wreckage, as well as having been nearly flattened by the pressure of the other Ronin crushing her and Skids.

Grabbing her outline, he focused and brought her into the phase-void with him. Not skipping a beat, he jumped backwards and popped back into the real world. He didn't even get to run two paces before he was scooped up into EV's arms as she ran back to the Widow with him in her hand, and with Vale's body held tightly in his own arms.

Leaping onto the Widow, it immediately began to ascend and leave the war zone behind. Later, Buck would think about what would have happened if he'd engaged the Ronin and fought _her;_ would he have won? Could he have gotten his revenge then and there, like he'd been wanting to do for so long?

These were questions that would plague him later, but none of them even crossed his mind now; the only thing he could focus on was Vale.

Laying her on the floor of the Widow, he moaned anxiously. 'Extensive' didn't even begin to describe her injuries. One of her legs was barely hanging on by a few flaps of muscle and skin; the other was almost completely flat, the skeletal components inside having been obliterated and no longer able to provide a solid structure for the flesh around it to reside on. Shards of bone were sticking out of her right arm, and puncture wounds dotted her chest.

Still, against it all; she was _alive._

"Hang on, Amelia," he whispered urgently, holding her bloody hand more for his sake than hers.

 _Don't let her die. Please god, don't let her die._


	11. The Last Resort

The side of the Widow was only open a few feet or so before Buck slid out with Vale in his arms. "SHE NEEDS HELP! SOMEONE-"

He hadn't even finished his sentence before a group of medical officers ran forward with various instruments and a gurney. Gently taking her out of his hands, they laid her on the stretcher and began to wheel it down a corridor as fast as they could while maintaining caution not to hurt her.

"Where are they taking her-?" he questioned, but a caregiver on the scene grabbed his shoulder.

"We've been here on standby for any injuries you all sustained; we're as prepared to help as we can be."

Slowly, Buck registered what exactly the man was saying and his racing mind began to calm itself. Still stricken with worry, he looked to where Vale had been taken once more before asking, "What ship are we on?"

"The Cardea, one of the finest medical ships in the fourth Militia fleet. We were the closest medical frigate in range when the order to evacuate you all was given." He spoke soothingly, trying to alleviate Buck's concerns. "From what I can gather, you all just escaped a pretty horrible ordeal; but you're safe now. We've warped away, and you're in good hands."

"Where were we being held?"

The officer sighed. "Thone, some kind of weapon testing facility run by Vinson Dynamics."

Buck growled at the notion. "That please isn't some damn weapons facility, it's a damn _hell_. We're the first ones to escape, as far as I can tell."

Shuddering, the officer grimaced. "Not much we can do about it except spread the word; Thone is IMC controlled, many of them will probably swallow whatever lie they and VD cook up. Still, some of these captives are IMC and ARES Pilots. I can't imagine that they'll be particularly thrilled to hear about the partnership that their superiors have with their kidnappers. Maybe some of 'em will swap to our side."

Buck knew that it was good news, but he couldn't bring himself to care; he knew that he needed to be elsewhere, and nothing else mattered until then.

 _Vale._

…

The grim beep of a heartbeat monitor was present, as well as the sucking noise of Vale's body trying to force air into its damaged lungs through the oxygen mask over her mouth.

By all accounts, she was completely crushed. Spinal cord was broken, pieces of bone were protruding in various places, and some of them were no longer even there, having been crushed to dust by the pressure applied to them. How she was even breathing, he had no idea.

But the fact remained that she was, and he wasn't about to leave her side until otherwise.

Unfortunately, the medical staff on-duty weren't as hopeful. It seemed like what she'd been given, the bare minimum, was all they were going to spare her. With a gnawing worry in his gut, Buck noticed that they were paying less and less attention to her in favor of other survivors who also needed medical help. While he wasn't against them helping others, he was definitely not about to condone their abandonment of Vale.

One of the doctors noticed him standing next to her, and her face took on a regretful expression as she walked over to him. "Sir, I don't like to be the bearer of bad news, but-"

"Then don't give any!" he replied angrily. "She's still alive, she's right here, why aren't any of you helping her?!"

"We have other patients here," she argued, "patients who have a much better chance of surviving if we help them ASAP. As much as I wish it wasn't the case, she's as good as gone."

Gesturing to Vale, she rattled off her injuries; "Punctured lung, obliterated skeletal structure, spinal cord severed, severe blunt force trauma, the list goes on." She sighed. "We're doctors, not miracle workers. And even if she managed to survive, it would be a doomed and painful existence for the rest of her life. She'd never be able to walk, to feel, she'd need constant assistance for even the smallest of tasks- the most we can do for her is to make her last moments as painless as possible. I'm sorry, but my attention is needed elsewhere. I'll be back to when I-"

Just as she started to walk away, Buck grabbed her arm firmly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to worry the doctor. To her surprise however, he tried a completely different approach.

"Then release her into my custody with one medical officer and the required equipment to stabilize her."

She was nonplussed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. If you've given up on her, then that's your prerogative. But I still have a card I can play." His voice was low, almost resigned. If she didn't know better, she'd think that he was almost as opposed to whatever option he had in mind than simply declaring it a lost cause.

Reaching into a pouch at his side, he pulled out something that he held up for her to see. It was a small transparent cube with something encased within. Looking closely, she saw a glass coin-like object with an emblem or insignia of some kind on the side. Against her better judgement, she analyzed it further.

A sword against a turquoise hexagon, impaling a broken half of a planet beneath it as other shards fell away. Along the planet's curve read the words, _Primus Inter Pares._

She gasped and jerked back in shock. She'd heard rumors about this, some individual or group of individuals who assisted both the IMC and Militia from the shadows. Their intentions unknown, but their power unmistakable.

"The Mark of the Advocate?! How do you-"

"How else do you think I became a Simulacrum?" he cut her off, "Neither the Militia or IMC have employed any standard procedures for it. Ever wonder why so many people seem so wary of us?"

After regaining her breath, the doctor weighed her options. Ignore the ACES Pilot's wishes and simply accept the consequences, or listen, spare a single medical officer with some equipment, and hand the patient off to him while absolving herself of blame or risk of incurring his wrath.

Not a hard choice.

"I'll send someone along to help you gather what's necessary," she muttered, and walked away.

Internally, he gave a breath of relief; he'd gotten this far. Now, he had to call in a favor.

…

The dropship landed carefully, what with the unorthodox nature of their hurry. Dropping the bay ramp, Buck carefully but hurriedly wheeled the gurney carrying Vale out and onto the platform. He looked up, a stormy rain falling to accentuate the dire mood he was in.

He'd left in a hurry, barely having enough time to tell EV where he was going before leaving the Cardea with no one other than a medical officer to monitor Vale's vitals, and a Pilot to fly them to the drop-off point.

Looking back at the medical officer, he waved for him to stay. "That's as far as you can go; I'll handle everything from here."

"Do you want me to wait?" the officer called, but Buck shook his head.

"If all goes well, we'll be provided passage off-world anyway. If it doesn't, then I'm not sure there'll be anything left of me to come back!"

The officer seemed understandably disturbed by the vague and ominous warning Buck had given, but he obliged and waved for the pilot to take off. Not stopping to watch them leave, Buck began his urgent journey to the coordinates provided to him.

The rain was good, it would force most of the population indoors and away from anywhere they could see him; if there was anything that would improve his chances of making it out of this alive, it would be no witnesses.

Making his way to a particularly seedy section of Luma's capital city, Helena, he used his navigational processors to keep track of his coordinates and maneuver through the back alleys accordingly.

All too soon, he was met with a sight that forced him to stop in his tracks. He'd been expecting it, but that didn't stop it from unnerving him.

In front of him stood a run-down warehouse-like building. The door was closed but he knew it would be unlocked. Next to it was a hastily sketched image of the Advocate's emblem, the signal to him that this was the correct place. It would seem that this would be the location they'd chosen; the Advocate always chose somewhere secluded and away from prying eyes, immediately vacating the area once the job was done.

With anxiety for Vale's life at the forefront of his mind, he pushed open the door and wheeled her inside.

He was greeted with the same view he'd received on the last night he'd been human; mysterious people in medical garb, their faces covered to hid their identities. Surgical instruments amongst other high-tech components resided near an operating table.

One of them, presumably the contact for tonight, approached him and spoke in a low and indifferent tone.

"It is unheard of for one to call upon the Advocate. Considering it is usually the other way around, they are most disgruntled by the … change of pace, so to speak."

Buck steadied his nerves as best he could, knowing that one wrong move could prove deadly for both him and Vale. "I humbly apologize, please believe me. But I had no other options if I was to save her life."

The contact looked down at the broken mess that Vale was, their expression unreadable behind the black mask they wore.

"The Advocate is not one for charity. What do they gain out of this?"

"Another opportunity to experiment," Buck replied, as much as he hated to phrase it that way. He knew that the Simulacrum conversion process was still a dodgy one, one that hadn't quite yet been refined enough for a high success rate. It was about a fifty-fifty on whether or not the process worked, and every new Simulacrum made was one step further to standardizing it.

Still, the contact seemed unconvinced.

Buck gave a synthetic sigh. "I also can vouch for her vitality; you know of my record, and what standards I hold myself and other soldiers to." He nodded at Vale. "She exceeds those standards easily, much more than I would have expected her to. And it wouldn't hurt to have two capable Pilots, such as her and myself, indebted to the Advocate."

He waited patiently, knowing that whatever decision transpired would settle both their fates. If they agreed, maybe Vale could still walk out of this.

If not, then neither of them would see tomorrow.

After a moment, the contact turned around and gave a nod to the surgical team. They immediately set to work, one of them coming over and bringing Vale to them so they could move her onto the operating table.

He would have given a sigh of relief if it was possible, but instead decided to simply stand there and observe.

For Vale's sake, he hoped that his luck would hold true.


	12. Tin-Man

She wanted to smirk at the groan of frustration she heard in his voice. She'd have to settle for giving a soft hum of contentment, since she didn't have lips. Not real ones, anyway.

"I … I can't believe …" he barely managed to get out before falling silent again. It seemed that he was having quite the struggle in formulating complete sentences right now; whether from rage, shock, or crippling anxiety, she hadn't the slightest. Not that it mattered; all that did would be how the rest of this meeting played out, hopefully to her advantage.

"As we speak, there are several media outlets currently covering the incident. Our spokesmen at Hammond are working on a statement right now, trying to save face for the company."

"It's because of them that we're in this situation in the first place!" he roared, slamming his fist into the desk he was currently leaning over. "I told you that a partnership like this would bite us in the ass-"

"And I told _you,"_ she reminded him, "that Thone was not the place to house a facility like this. Even under IMC control, it's nowhere near remote enough to be considered safe for our … _tests._ But you weren't willing to move our operations to a more recluse area-"

"And allow you free reign of the site?" he scoffed. "I like to think that our goals are at least _somewhat_ humane. Not to mention that I don't want a case where Hammond can take advantage of the distance to seize control-"

"The facility would still be strictly under your ownership," she hastily assured him. "Believe me, Hammond and the IMC have enough bad publicity without our work sullying it. If they want to maintain an even remotely positive image in the eyes of the public, they'll stay as far away from taking credit for our advancements as possible. They'll supply the resources and funding, nothing more."

He clenched his jaw tightly, but he wasn't screaming anymore. She continued on, sensing a break in his resolve.

"Besides," she crooned as she approached closer, "you needn't worry about me. After all, don't the ends justify the means? Just because I enjoy my work doesn't mean it isn't beneficial; if it brings us any closer to ending the war, is it not worth it?"

She preyed on his softer side, the side that cared for the millions of lives affected by the feud between the Militia and IMC. She couldn't care less about the bloodshed, so long as it served her purposes.

Lowering his head, she watched him shut his eyes as he grimaced. "Damn it all. I know you're right, I just … of course it's worth it."

That didn't stop him from turning to her with distaste in his gaze. "You're a psychopath- you understand that right?"

"Irrelevant" she replied, brushing aside his complaint.

He sighed. "I'm assuming you've already worked things out with Hammond?"

"Of course, Rayme," she affirmed. "They already have a planet, one that's just about as far from 'on the grid' as can be. Typhon, I believe they said. They're conducting other research and expeditions there as well, projects that will require such a facility like ours for weapons, Titan, and vehicle manufacturing. My … _particular_ form of weapons testing would be viable as well, though that would only be a relatively minor part."

He snorted derisively, the obvious mendacity not lost on him.

"They have the plans laid out, the resources for construction- we can begin building almost immediately. Construction would finish within 2 years, and it'd be functional six months before that. Then, when all this is over, all will know that Vinson Dynamics was a key player in helping to end the war."

She threw in that last line to cement the idea and eradicate any resistance left in his mind to the idea. She waited patiently for his response, watching as the conflict in his mind eventually resolved itself.

"Show me where I sign before I change my mind."

"Of course."

…

The kiss of life did not come gently; rather, it forced her back into existence with all the sensitivity and delicateness of a blunt instrument.

She jerked upwards, her body buckling as her cognitive processes became active once more. She tried to take a deep breath- but nothing happened.

Desperately, she tried to inhale and calm her mind which was screaming at her to get air. Once again, however, nothing happened. She felt like she was suffocating- and yet, she hadn't noticed her body triggering any of the usual symptoms that came with asphyxiation.

In fact, she didn't really _feel_ anything. She was aware of her surroundings, she knew that she was lying down with her back pressed against the soft cotton of an infirmary cot- but she didn't truly _feel_ it. It was more as though her body was making an observation and simply passing the information along to her brain.

She knew the temperature of the room, a cool 20 degrees celsius, but she didn't feel one way or another about it. She had no sense of warmth or cold, just an almost omniscient perception that made itself present in her mind.

And her sight- what happened to her eyes? She could see everything clearly, almost better than she could remember doing so; but her depth perception was almost entirely gone. No- it was still there, just different.

Simply looking at the ceiling, she couldn't guess how close or far away it was- but some kind of intrinsic radar in her told her exactly the distance. Her mind took the two streams of information, the planar ocular data and the raw sensory input of space, and weaved them together to provide her with a three-dimensional topography of whatever she looked at, allowing her a form of acute comprehension.

All of this happened in several seconds, and she was becoming overwhelmed with such a sensory overload. She looked around the room, searching for anything that could provide her comfort-

"Hey, it's alright. You're safe."

That voice, she recognized it. It had provided security to her on more than one occasion, and so it would do so again. Steadying her nerves, she turned her head slowly to look at who had spoken to her. It was a very familiar face- or rather lack of one- that awaited her.

 _Buck,_ she tried to say, but found that no words escaped her. Panic beginning to set in again, it was quelled as he held up a hand to stop her. "Don't say it- think it. Think about the words you want to say, and form them in your mind. Then try again.

She tried to follow his instructions to the best of her ability, feeling some kind of mental wall as she tried to picture the words. It didn't provide much resistance, just enough to block her if she didn't actively try to push it aside. Aware of its presence now, she made a second attempt.

"… Buck?"

She heard her own voice, but it caught her off-guard. Something about it was off, it sounded … tinny. Synthetic almost. Had her vocal cords been damaged?

He nodded, unaware of the thoughts running through her mind. "It's me, Amelia."

She hadn't heard him say her first name before- it was surprising, but a pleasant one. Something about the way he said it felt … right.

She quickly sat up, once again feeling like something was off. Her chest felt heavy, like she was trying to rise in a drunken or drowsy state. Medication maybe?

"Where … where … am?"

She felt frustrated at her broken english, confused as to why she was having such difficulty speaking. But Buck didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "The Cardea, a medical vessel in the fourth Militia fleet. Same one that evacuated us from Thone a few days ago."

"Days?" she questioned, surprised at the time difference. Why had she been out so long? What had happened to her? All she remembered was fighting with Skids and-

Images flashed through her mind, along with the memory of painful sensations. Skids' hull, caved in around her. Sharp pieces and prongs of metal stabbing her in every direction, ripping apart her flesh-

He must have picked up that she was stressing out, because he waved again and diverted her attention to him. "Yes, a few days."

"What … happen?"

He said nothing for a moment, simply staring at her. Then he looked down at the floor, staring anywhere but at her. "The woman who held us captive came out to fight us personally. She crushed Skids' chassis with you still inside … it was bad."

At the mention of her Titan, another fear surfaced. "Skids! Is … okay?"

"I got his data core out," Buck reassured her, "though I'm still not sure how it didn't sustain more damage. He got lucky. You, on the other hand …"

He looked up, facing her directly again. "You were mangled, almost completely destroyed. When I grabbed you from the wreckage, I … I thought for a moment that I was retrieving a corpse. How you were still breathing, I can't even fathom." He looked down again, allowing the impact of the news to take its toll on her.

She accepted that, it aligned with her memories so far- but that left a new question. "That bad? Then how … I am … okay?"

Buck seemed to have a habit of pausing and falling silent before resuming in this conversation. She wasn't stupid- obviously something had happened that he didn't seem to want to talk about.

"Amelia," he said softly, "hold out your hand and place it against mine."

He held up his hand in the air, waiting for hers to meet with it. Tentatively, she did as she was told. As her arm reached out in front of her and joined with his, she saw now what he had been avoiding.

Her arm was metal, the digits angular and hard. There was no soft touch of human skin, no gentle contact of muscle; it was hard and foreign, a faint clicking occurring as their metal appendages tapped one another.

She remained silent, a flood of thoughts and emotions coursing through her. Instead of speaking, she simply looked to him for answers.

He did not relinquish his grip on her hand, but lowered it so that it came to rest on the edge of her cot. "The doctors gave up on you. They said that you were as good as dead, and that they couldn't spare resources on you. Even if you'd lived, your life would have been a living hell- unable to walk, talk, or anything without constant help and care. I … I couldn't accept that."

He let go of her hand, preparing for the outrage that was sure to follow when she learned of what he did. "I called in a favor to someone powerful. The same person who made me … me. They agreed to help, and when everything was said and done they gave us a ride back here."

He looked down again, unwilling to meet her gaze. "It's a delicate process, and it takes the mind several days to recover from being converted. I've been sitting here at your side, hoping against hope that the operation would take- but now that you're here, I don't know what to say. If I was to save you, I had no other choice. But looking back on it … maybe it wasn't my choice to make. I don't know if you'd rather I just let you die, or what- all I know is that you didn't choose this. "

She stared at him blankly. His voice became quiet as he continued.

"I understand if you're angry- no, furious- with me. Hell, I'd even understand if you want nothing more to do with me after this. I promise, you'll never see me again if that's what you ask of me- I just … I just needed you to understand why I did it."

He waited for the tirade of insults, the wave of fury she'd unleash on him, the horror in her voice as she asked him how he possibly could have done such a thing to her.

Instead, her hand found his and grasped it again.

He looked up to find her staring at him, her head tilted slightly to one side. "Why?"

The way she said it, so simple and innocent; it reminded him of the same way she'd spoken to him that night in the holding area as they'd fallen asleep.

 _Even if your body is dead, I know that your mind and heart are just as alive as they were before._

He couldn't help the surge of emotion he felt, and his resolve broke under the weight of his heart that he'd carried for weeks. "Why? How could I not try to save you? I fought with you, both in and out of the arena. I watched as you were nearly killed, I carried your body out of the rubble and- well, my body might be machine but my mind certainly isn't. You can't … you can't go through what we went through without … without growing to care for the other person."

Damn it, he'd never been good with words. He was a soldier, he killed things- that was his job. Even now, his body was just a highly tuned system of machinery made to be more adept at killing than he'd ever been before. Trying to express how he felt was a battle in and of itself, let alone when he was sure that the one he was confessing to hated him now-

She shook her head. "Meant … why would I … be mad?"

Now it was he who stared uncomprehendingly at her.

"Saved … me. When … everyone else … gave up. How could I … mad?" Her voice may have been choppy as she slowly earned how to speak again, but the tone was certainly full of warmth and not the harsh cruelty he'd been expecting. If she still had facial features, he had a feeling that she'd have been smiling at him.

"What was … other thing? Care … about me?"

He suddenly realized his misinterpretation of her question, 'why', and felt very awkward as he stood there looking down on her while she waited for an answer.

He emitted a synthetic sigh. "It's, uh … it's complicated."

She stared up at him, the blue light of her optics glowing in the dim lighting. He wasn't used to this kind of talk, and he fumbled over his words.

"You … you mean a lot to me. I haven't felt human in a long time, and- well, you-"

She squeezed his hand, interlocking her fingers with his.

He was effectively silenced by her action, and he looked down to their hands as though to visually confirm what he'd felt her do. Then he looked back at her again.

"Maybe we … can … make each other … feel human … together?" she asked, speaking slower to ensure that every word made its way out of her vocal processors clearly annunciated. The magnitude of what she was saying hit him like no bullet ever could.

"… I'd like that."

He turned and pulled the chair he'd been using earlier closer to the cot. Sitting down in it, he opted to place his left elbow on the side of the bed and rest his head against it as they each kept their gazes aligned with one another.

Their hands never parted.


	13. When One Door Closes

**1 YEAR, SIX MONTHS LATER**

* * *

"Think that's our new meat?"

Vale turned to look at the rifleman who'd spoken up. He was standing next to McFarlane a few paces away, the two of them staring off to the left. She followed their gaze to see a Pilot donned in IMC armor approaching them.

"Must be the transfer they gave us," Tyra muttered quietly. "The deserter?"

She'd heard about it, a new guy they'd picked up on Nedar. Everyone dead but him and a Titan. She didn't know much else about it other than the fact that he was former IMC.

Before she approach him, McFarlane beat her to the punch and let out an obnoxiously loud guffaw. "Oh look, it's another IMC-turned-Militia jackass. Not even gonna have the decency to get rid of that white, huh?"

She half expected the Pilot to snap at him, but instead they just stood at attention. "Pilot PFC Four, at your service."

"Four?" Tyra snickered, unable to keep silent on the unusual callsign.

Vale wasn't really focused on that- instead, she was analyzing his mannerisms thus far. He wasn't trying to fight back against McFarlane, he just wanted to get on with his job. Something about the way he stood there taking McFarlane's abuse reminded her of her own past …

 _We're a team. Not humans, not Simulacrums, not MCOR or ARES or whatever the hell else there is; a_ _ **team.**_

Her mind flashed back to that escape from the facility, a memory that she didn't like to dwell on often. All those Pilots, IMC and Militia alike, working together to take down a greater evil. If she'd learned one thing that day, it was that the world wasn't black and white.

"Nah, nah, nah. You may have been a PFC on their side, but to me?" She watched as McFarlane closed the gap between him and the new Pilot, placing his face directly in from of the latter's. "You ain't shit."

That final act on McFarlane's part reminded her of herself, when she'd been too ignorant for her own good. She quickly came to a decision.

"I can't believe Briggs and Gates are still allowing IMC to join our-"

"Cut the shit, McFarlane."

He stopped his rant and turned to see Vale approaching the pair of them with anger in her gait, Tyra following close behind. McFarlane quickly took a step back, allowing her access to the new Pilot. Maybe the newcomer didn't see it, but anyone else who'd known her a while could tell that she was seething.

The Pilot- Four, his name was- analyzed her form, and she had an idea that he was wondering how to react to a Simulacrum. Truthfully, she was wondering how he would as well, and she had a small test to see how well he'd be willing to put up with it.

"You said your name is Four, right?"

He nodded, stoically silent as ever, and she extended her hand towards him. Would he take it? Or would he be like she once was, apprehensive of what he didn't understand?

To her immense surprise, he firmly grasped her hand in a firm shake without hesitation. A bold statement among the frontier, to so willingly trust a Simulacrum. She appreciated the gesture.

"I'm Vale. I apologize, but it seems that McFarlane here doesn't realize that without the massive influx of IMC joining our cause, we would have lost this war a long time ago." She glared at the other Pilot who failed to respond with anything other than a scowl, and walked away grumbling.

"Tyra," the woman beside her said, introducing herself to the newcomer. "Odd name you've got there, Four."

"That's what I'm told," he agreed, shrugging. He looked at Vale again. "You know, I heard rumors about something like this, but I didn't think it had already been done."

"Pilot uploading?" she clarified, "Yeah. Transferring the mind of a human into a robot is definitely a tricky business, but it's effective. So long as a copy of me exists somewhere, I can't die. Just get reuploaded. I tell you though, I definitely miss some of the more … _primal_ feelings of being human."

She said that last part teasingly, trying to make him feel more at home. As he and Tyra began to discuss the plans for this assignment they'd been given, she couldn't help but think that Four was going to fit right in. In spite of her tendency to avoid making attachments in this war, she found herself quickly growing fond of the young Pilot.

She had a feeling that meeting Four was just the start of something much greater.

* * *

 **END OF "LIVE FIRE"**

 **BUCK AND VALE WILL RETURN IN "CINDER"**

* * *

 _ **A/N: Alright, a few things to get out there.**_

 _ **First off, yes, Buck and Vale are going to be in "Cinder." Maybe not for a bit, but they'll be there nonetheless. If you don't know what "Cinder" is, then you have read this continuity very out-of-order, my friend.**_

 _ **To any who have not been reading "Cinder" (or to those that were given a faulty link), a discord server for the Architects' community has been created for discussion and generally just hanging out. If you'd like to join and communicate with me directly, feel free! I spend a lot of time in there talking with others.**_

 _ **The invite link is ( discord . gg / zmPGAhB ) without any spaces.**_

 _ **In any matter, writing Live Fire has been an absolute blast, and I can't thank you enough for those that stuck through it until the end. I may have some other Titanfall writing projects coming up in the future as well, so be sure to mark me as a favorite author and follow me if you'd like notifications on my activities!**_

 _ **Until the next time,**_

 _ **\- Matteoarts**_


End file.
